


When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons...

by TheAuthorGod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beard Fic, Egg Donation, F/F, F/M, Gamer Charlie Bradbury, Homophobia, I think this is it but i'll add as I go..., Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Minor Alcohol Problem, Past One-Sided Dean Winchester/Benny Laffite, Sperm Donation, [reads a bit like a How I Met Your Mother sort of thing], but not, dean is bi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/pseuds/TheAuthorGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby is given the job of watching the herd of grandchildren.  When the youngest, Mary, Sam and Jess' daughter, asks a big question, "Why does Little Dean look like Uncle Dean?"  It wouldn't be that big of a deal except that Little Dean is Charlie and Gilda's youngest child.<br/>To avoid the question, Bobby decides to tell them the story (with the help of some other family members) of how Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas got together.<br/>"What does that have to do with Little Dean?"  Mary asks.<br/>Bobby smiles.  "It's all part of the same story."</p><p>Or the story where Cas’ works as a used car salesman, Dean works as a mechanic, and everybody else plays matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. …Cas buys lemon scented air fresheners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kams_log](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/gifts).



> UNEDIT'D. UNPROOF'D. UNBETA'D. Story is mine, characters are not.  
> I was going to have a beta but then... they said to go ahead because they're busy. Oh well, you know the drill. Tell me where the glaring mistakes are.

When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons… Chapter 1 | …Cas buys lemon scented air fresheners

NOW  
  
\---  
  
Sighing when he sat, Bobby rubbed at one of his knees through his jeans. He looked out at the little rascals running around the used car dealership and knew that he would be told to take them elsewhere if he couldn’t get them under control soon. He took in a deep calming breath, “Alright ya kidjits, get over here.”  
  
The 8 wicked things made their way over. They sat in front of him and looked up at him with wide eyes, mostly green eyes. “Why do we have to sit? Uncle Gabe said we could look at the cars.” Leave it to Dean’s girl to want to look over the used cars.  
  
“There is a fine line between looking at and climbing on.” He rocked in the rocking chair. He had hated it when they first brought it in. “Now, we’re going to sit here and entertain ourselves. Any suggestions?”  
  
One little hand shot up, Sam and Jess’ youngest, Mary; she also happened to be the youngest of all of them. “I have a question.”  
  
She always did; she was naturally curious like Sam always had been. “Well then, spill it.”  
  
Nodding she ran a hand through her hair like Sam tended to do. “Why does Little Dean look like Uncle Dean?”  
  
The kids froze and turned to Bobby; it was a question that most of them had probably asked themselves. Bobby groaned internally; he wasn’t sure he wanted to explain why Charlie and Gilda’s kid was the spitting image of Dean. He wasn’t even sure if they’d all had the respective sex talks with their respective people.  
  
Mary’s green eyes, inherited from her mother, bored into Bobby’s face. He really couldn’t say no to her, or any of them for that matter. He cleared his throat, “I should probably start with how your Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas got together.”  
  
“I thought Daddy and Papa got together when Papa started bringing Daddy pies.” Dean and Cas’ second and youngest child supplied.  
  
Shaking his head, Bobby repositioned his ball cap. “That’s what they all say; but, they don’t tell the whole story.”  
  
“What does that have to do with Little Dean?” Mary asked again.  
  
The clock revealed that he had to occupy them for a few hours before their parents would be done with their full days of work. He hoped that this story would take up enough time that he could avoid answering Mary’s question. “It’s all part of the same story, ya kidjit; now, settle down or you won’t be hearing it.”  
  
She settled back against her older sibling, Moose, and watched with eagerness flitting through her eyes.  
  
“A while back, way back when Dean had a beard.”  
  
“He had a beard?”  
  
“Quiet. Dean worked in the Lawrence Repair Shop, this was before all the renovations; it was a dinky little place and didn’t look like much. He fixed the cars good and well; I worked over there at the time, since I had been filling in for your Granddad. And Cas worked here…”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
Dean glared at the license plate border on the van. The white van had been purchased from the shoddy place up the hill, Church Street Auto. Their sign implied that the place sold only ‘Guaranteed Pre-Own Vehicles’. Dean agreed; their vehicles were guaranteed to break.  
  
Not all of them broke; but, it sure felt like they did. Dean would have another one from that dealership in his shop each week. And the thing about these cars was that when they broke, they really broke. This one, in particular, was making a horrible noise.  
  
The owner emerged from the desk area. “So, you think you can fix her up?” The guy was gangly and thin and spoke with a drawl. “I’m Garth by the way.” He swung his hand up to shake. “Woah, nice beard. I wish I could grow one.”  
  
Shaking the proffered hand, Dean nodded. “Thanks. I’m sure I can get her running for you; but, with those sounds, I can’t guarantee that it’ll be cheap.” Dean stroked his beard, fond of the compliment.  
  
“I figured as much.” The man sighed and slid his hands into his pockets, shoulders held high. “I’m supposed to be going to my friend’s beach house this weekend. I guess that won’t be happening.”  
  
Smirking, Dean pulled on his blue work gloves. “Beach house, huh? Sounds like you know the right kind of people.” He rolled the short red craftsman toolbox over to the side of the van. He then squatted and sat back onto the back roller. “I wish I knew those sort of people.” Laying back, Dean rolled under the van hoping to make a diagnosis.  
  
Garth’s shoes moved back and forth at the corner of Dean’s eye. “It’s not a big deal or anything-”  
  
“Holy fuck!” Dean yelled when he followed one of the black tubes with his fingers. He must have yelled especially loud; because, two other pairs of shoes quickly joined Garth’s.  
  
One set was Bobby’s. “What’s wrong, son?” He knelt down and peeked under.  
  
Picking through the underside of the car, Dean assessed the state of the hoses. “I’m going to have to put new hoses all over this thing. They’re old and cracked. WOAH!” He rolled out of the way just in time for one of the hoses to bust and spill oil onto the pavement. In his rush to move out from under the leak, Dean ran into the other set of feet. They wobbled and, ultimately, their owner fell on Dean. “You could at least buy me dinner first.” Rolling out the rest of the way, Dean found a very attractive man splayed across his lap.  
  
The man’s hair was ruffled at awkward angles and his oxford shirt now sported a grease stain. “I didn’t know you’d be so forward as to run me over without first getting my name.” He pushed up from Dean’s lap with what must have been strong arms, gauging the way they strained at the shirt’s sleeves.  
  
“Well, then, what’s your name?” He removed his gloves.  
  
At that, Bobby cleared his throat. “This is Castiel from Church Street Auto.” He raised his eyebrows in Dean’s direction, a sort of warning.  
  
“Oh.” Dean had never been up there; he was more into the older cars. He may have to swing by to see this guy, especially with those blue eyes fashioned out of pieces of the fucking sky. Things started to make sense; those eyes could probably sell garbage.  
  
Garth pivoted to Castiel with his had raised and finger pointed. “Now, you are just one of the people I wanted to talk with.” He twisted his head on his neck and raised an eyebrow. “I was hoping you could explain why my car has bad hoses only two weeks after I bought it.”  
  
Closing his eyes, Cas’s shoulders sagged in a look of guilt. “I know; I just found that my brother has been selling broken cars for full price. I don’t know when it started. I don’t know how to stop him,” His eyes snapped open with determination in their depths, “yet.” He hand was curled in a fist. He turned to Dean. “I was hoping I could offer you some monetary compensation and,” he turned to Garth, “pay, I don’t know, half of this cost?”  
  
Dragging himself up, Dean looked down at Castiel. He wasn’t that much shorter than Dean, barely an inch or two; but, it was enough that Dean could feel bigger. “Does your brother know you’re doing this?” Dean figured that he already knew the answer; but, he kind of wanted to know how good of a liar Castiel was.  
  
“No.” Castiel blinked slowly. “He does not.”  
  
He didn’t lie which made Dean feel proud of the man; but, it also meant that Dean didn’t know how well the man lied. “How about you come around after close and we’ll figure it all out?” Maybe he could have dealt with it then; but, that wouldn’t have given him a reason to invite the guy back.  
  
Digging into his suit jacket, Castiel pulled out a business card. “Call or text when you’re done for the day; I would really like to amend my brother’s ill deeds.”  
  
This guy spoke funny. Dean liked it. He used a different set of words and it made his lips move around in different ways. That was Dean’s reason for staring at his lips, not at all because his lips looked plush and chapped. “Sounds like a plan.” Dean pocketed the card and turned back to the car.  
  
Castiel walked away toward the open garage door and his car.  
  
When Dean opened the van’s door, a strong smell of lemon pierced through him. “God. I love the smell of lemons. People don’t usually put lemon in their car; where’d you get this?” He turned and pointed a Garth. “You, I like you.”  
  
\---  
  
Dean texted Castiel around 5:15. The shop closed at 5:30. He also was hungry so he ended up calling only a few seconds after he’d texted.  
  
The phone rang a few times before Castiel picked up. “This is not how texting works.”  
  
Laughing at the brisk response, Dean tried to cover his nervousness. “You said I could call or text.”  
  
“Yes, but people don’t usually do a mixture of both.” There was settling on the other end of the phone; if Dean had to guess, he’d say that Castiel nestled the phone into his shoulder.  
  
Nodding even though Castiel couldn’t see, Dean smacked his lips lightly in thought. “I was going to leave it with the text; but, I am super hungry and I was wondering if it would be cool if I got some food.”  
  
“That sounds amazing; my brother ate half my lunch today.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows pulled together. “He just sounds like an altogether not so fun guy.” He leaned on the counter-like desk.  
  
“No, this is my other brother.”  
  
Eyes bugging, he tried to keep his voice even. “How many do you have?” The guy had looked too put together to have brothers.  
  
“Too many, do you want some?”  
  
Dean raised his eyebrows. “I got one; I’m good.” He wondered if all of the brothers spoke the same way.  
  
“Too bad.”  
  
Scratching at his beard, Dean fiddled with a pen on the table. “Is there any specific food you’d like?”  
  
“I like Chinese. I like Mexican. I like pizza.” The phone went scratchy, again, for another shift in Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m not that picky. You have anything in mind?”  
  
Flipping the pen in his fingers, Dean thought for a moment before going to respond; but, he was cut off.  
  
“Oh, hi, Zach. I’ll be with you in a moment. Sir,” there was a pause, “Yes, I’ll get you the estimates of the Excursion via email tonight and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”  
  
Dean wondered if Cas was changing their meeting.  
  
“I’ll see you, as discussed.” There was a harder edge to Castiel’s voice. Castiel hung up.  
  
The phone was replaced on the jack. The pen was replaced to the table. Dean bracketed his arms onto the edge of the desk counter and, using his shoulders as hinges, bent at the hips and stretched his triceps, hanging his head between outstretched arms. “What am I going to get?”  
  
\---  
  
Dean was not sure how the transition would go if he had to result with plan B; but, he had a plan B anyway. He bought burgers from the diner and brought them back. He also bought pizza. He’d keep the pizza in the back room on his personal desk; and, if Castiel didn’t like burgers, he’d – he’d come up with some reason to make the exchange. He shrugged at his own stupidity. He just wanted to kinda impress the guy.  
  
When Dean emerged from the back room, the bell on the door tinkled letting him know that Castiel had arrived. “Hey.”  
  
“Hello, Dean.” Castiel had changed his shirt; it was a T-shirt with AC-DC faded and crackled across the front. It had probably been black when it was new; but, now it managed maybe a smoky grey. At Dean’s curious look, Castiel glanced down. “I had to put on some of my gym clothes; someone stained my others.”  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Dean gaped for a moment. “Sorry about that; uh, let me get some of my ‘Stain Devils’; it works great. It’ll take it right out.” He turned back to the back room. It had a small kitchen and a closet with his washer and dryer. Above the washer, he kept his detergents and such. He sifted through them, looking for a small yellow bottle. Actually, he had quite a stock of it; so, he was looking for one of the 6 unopened bottles. He found one and headed back out.  
  
The food had been removed from the bag and spread across the table in what looked like an actual meal and not Styrofoam take-out containers. Castiel raised his head with wide and approving eyes. “I love burgers.”  
  
So, Dean wouldn’t have to figure out plan B. He breathed out, relieved. He pinched the yellow bottle between his forefinger and thumb, shaking it back and forth a little. “This’ll do it. Doesn’t take much.”  
  
“Make a habit of washing your clothes at work?” Castiel pulled up a wooden stool and Dean sat in the rolling office chair.  
  
It wasn’t until that moment that Dean realized that it wasn’t the best place for a business meeting. Castiel was probably used to sterile tile floors and lumbar support chairs; not the dark front room of a grease smelling hole. “I, uh, actually live in the back room there.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder to point to the door he’d emerged from.  
  
Leaning to see, Castiel blinked at the door. “Really?” He picked at a French fry. “Any particular reason?” He let the subject hang like he wasn’t sure if he should push the question or not.  
  
Dean shrugged. “I came back to town because my dad got hurt. He was running this place. Bobby was able to do some of it; but, he has his own business, too.” He twirls a French fry, mimicking Castiel. “Didn’t have a lot of time in between the old place and here.” He picked up the burger and bit into it; succinctly cutting himself off.  
  
Nodding, Castiel seemed to take the hint. “So, uh, how much will the van’s repair cost.”  
  
With a better topic on the table, Dean swallowed his food. “I’m going to be replacing all 23 hoses; you don’t just replace select ones with this sort of damage. That’ll run between $300 and $400 dollars. With labor, additional parts, and the minimum on the tools fee I’ll be around $1200.”  
  
Castiel had stopped chewing and his mouth hung open with food in it. Dean amended his earlier assessment, Castiel may not be as put-together as he first seemed. “That’s a lot.” He said through a full mouth.  
  
“It is.” Dean chuckled, “It’s pretty hosed.” He dragged a fry through the mustard and mayonnaise mix dripping from the lettuce on his burger. “It’s the kind of price that anyone would charge though; you can check. In fact, since it’ll only be me and I don’t really care about the work fee – I have no assistants or anything – I probably charge less for labor.” He licked the mustard from his middle finger.  
  
When Dean looked back up, Castiel was sporting a small, amused smile. He was bouncing a little up and down in what looked like suppressed laughter. “You got it all over your beard.”  
  
Dean laughed. “That’s what happens when you have a beard.” He glanced around for napkins; but, it would seem that they didn’t get any with their food. The bent forward to stand but froze to wink at Castiel, “Saving it for later.” He continued to get up and turn around the space looking for a roll of paper towels. He found one next to the phone.  
  
When Dean turned back around, Castiel had a grimace on his face.  
  
“I’m kidding.” Dean supplied as he wiped at his beard. He’d have to wash it better after dinner was over. Castiel grimaced more. Or maybe not? “I’ll wash it after we’re done eating. I know it’s kinda gross; but, the beard is worth it.”  
  
Castiel took another bite of his food. “Worth what?” He squinted in thought; reassembling his half eaten burger.  
  
Shrugging, Dean mauled his dinner; he took three immediately consecutive bites to limit the juice that ran down his hands and beard. Ellen’s Diner made the best burgers; even the mess was a joy. “It’s worth the,” there was an awkward pause because he wasn’t sure how to go about saying it, “attention.” He decided on something completely and utterly gender non-specific. At Castiel’s continued confusion, Dean added, “I usually tame it a bit better; this is kind of to piss off my dad.”  
  
Nodding, Castiel kept going at his fries since his burger was gone. Their conversation came and went easily for the remainder of the meal. The talked about cars and what they drove. Castiel still drove the car he got in college, an old style Volkswagen Beetle. Dean gushed about Baby, the first car that Bobby and his father restored together; he had worked his butt off to earn that car.  
  
Their food was long gone when they finally began to talk business. It didn’t take long. It probably took longer for Dean to go in the bathroom and freshen up his beard. He had spent some time studying in himself in the mirror; maybe he did have to think about getting his beard trimmed. It was longer than he had ever had it; but, he just hadn’t found the time.  
  
“So. I’ll send you a text with the info whenever a car is coming from the lot that will need your work.” Castiel nodded toward the end of the conversation.  
  
Dean shook his head. “Your brother almost caught you on the phone with me. I don’t think it would go over very well to have a bunch of texts that incriminate you.”  
  
It was true and Castiel seemed to acknowledge that. “Well, what else?”  
  
Shrugging, Dean flicked the pen in Castiel’ direction. Castiel flicked it back. That was all it took to create a pen flicking war. It was a lot like air hockey but without the air or the hockey and there was a serious risk of getting stabbed in the eye.  
  
Castiel flicked it especially hard and it bounced off of Dean and across the room. Dean had to retrieve it. Bending over, Dean tried not to think about Castiel seeing his ass in the air; not that Castiel was into it but Dean might be. When he stood back up, he caught sight of Garth’s van in the garage part through the small window. With the van, he saw the lemon scented air freshener. “Hey, Cas. I think I have a plan.” He turned back around to see Cas’ face tight again. “What?”  
  
“It’s just, no one’s ever called me Cas. I think I like it.”  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
Bobby smiled, still rocking in the chair.  
  
Mary grinned, “That’s why when Uncle Zach sells lemons…  
  
The rest of the crew chimed in. “Uncle Cas/Papa buys lemon scented air fresheners.”  
  
Glancing at the clock, Bobby realized that he had a lot more time to kill. He ran a hand over his face. This was going to be a long afternoon.


	2. ...Garth stocks lemon ice cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean's relationship has grown about as much as Cas' beard; it's patchy and possibly temporary. 
> 
> In other news, Garth bought and ice cream shack, Gabriel is looking for something sweet, and Dean may need to hire some help at the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNEDIT'D. UNPROOF'D. UNBETA'D. Story is mine, characters are not.  
> You know the drill. Tell me where the glaring mistakes are.

When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons… Chapter 2 | …Garth stocks lemon ice cream

  


  


NOW  
  
\---  
  
Most of the youngins were looking at him like he hung the moon; but, poor John had a squinty pout on his face. The kid must have picked it up from Cas; it made sense since Cas was his father. He had his lips pursed a bit and his head cocked to the side. It wasn’t a Dean thing or a Charlie thing; so, he hadn’t inherited it. “What’s up wit you?”  
  
John shifted. He was toward the middle of the group and Jo’s kid was practically leaning on him. Bobby could see that match a mile away; but, they had some time to figure it out. John coughed. “Did Mr. Fitz have the ice cream shop?” He was glaring straight ahead with his best impression of Cas in accountant mode.  
  
Smiling, Bobby began to rock again; he liked it when he could see their parent’s in them. It was like he was 30 years younger and watching it all for the first time – well, he hadn’t known Cas at the time, but still.  
  
“Garth had the ice cream shop. It didn’t sell lemon ice cream yet though.”  
  
John’s faraway look fell away in an instant. “What? He sold something else before?”  
  
“Yep, your basic chocolate and vanilla; but, your uncle Gabe thought…”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
“Heya, Cassie, time for your break.” Gabriel sidled up to Cas’ desk in the sales room.  
  
Cas continued to type on his computer. “What if I told you that I already took my break and that you’d have us losing money if you took me on another?” He glanced up at his brother and before flicking his eyes back to his computer screen. He was running a quick audit; it was a normal thing for him to do. He was trying to find where Zach was hiding the extra income from the Lemons that he was selling.  
  
Really crappy cars are called Lemons. Why? He had looked it up once or twice; it probably went back to the idea that weird guys were called tarts then lemons. The slang for a weird or out-of-place man then rubbed off on his car. Then cars were called lemons.  
  
Having gotten fed up with Cas’ silence, Gabriel began to push his rolling chair away from the desk. Cas squeaked; but, the force of Gabriel’s push gave him nothing else to do but to grab at the sides of the chair’s seat and hold on. Gabriel maneuvered the chair to the large windows on one side of the offices. He shot out an arm is a displaying gesture. “Let’s go meet the new neighbor.”  
  
Squinting out the window, Cas couldn’t see much. At the edge of the car lot and before the trees grew thick, there was a small shack. Out front, it had tables without umbrellas and a small congregation of children. Castiel turned the same scrutinizing look toward Gabe. “You want to go and get ice cream at a kid’s joint? Don’t you think that’s a little creepy?” Cas crossed his arms over his chest to raise an eyebrow at his brother.  
  
“I said…” Gabriel took Cas’ face in his hands and turned it back to the window and the small ice cream joint. “We should go meet the new neighbors.” Gabriel let go and started to swagger away.  
  
At that point, Cas had to go; if he didn’t, Gabe would just mess up whatever relationship their businesses would have. Cas sighed; he had the worst family.  
  
\---  
  
About halfway across the car lot, Cas noticed the van out back of the shop. It was the white van that had been in Dean’s shop when they had first met. Thinking about Dean made Cas’ face hot. Dean was really hot and really skilled at his work and, lately, smelled like sweat and lemon. Cas sighed; it was a good combination on him.  
  
But even the thought of Dean didn’t help to quell the incessant burbling of anxiety in his stomach. If that van was THE van, then he was going to have a problem. Garth had been a good guy. He was clean and fairly well spoken when he wanted to be; but, he wasn’t too good at secret keeping – at least, not in Cas’ limited experience with him. Cas spent the remaining three rows of cars trying to think of ways to cover up that he knew Garth. He really didn’t need Gabriel to be suspicious.  
  
Gabriel sidled up to the shack’s window with a smirk pressed onto his face. “I’d like whatever you’re having.”  
  
From behind the window, Garth laughed. “Sorry, no can do. I am having something that isn’t on the menu.” He reached through the hole in the wall and tapped the board with all of the bright, multicolored names of various combinations of ice cream and toppings.  
  
Huffing, Gabe rolled his eyes. “I know exactly what you’re having and I want some.”  
  
Cas remained off to the side. He could hear Garth and see the window; but, Garth couldn’t see him. He was still trying to formulate how to get through this without Gabe figuring out that they knew each other.  
  
Explaining the flavors, Garth leaned out the window; the guy was skinny enough to probably use the window like a doggy door. He pointed at the different words and names. “And this one is one of my favorites. It’s chocolate with cherry Twizzlers and-” Garth turned his head and caught sight of Cas. “Oh hey…”  
  
Cas shook his head a little.  
  
“… there. It’s a pleasure to meet you for the first time.” He looked between Cas and Gabe. “So, if you’re from the dealership next door; then you must be too.”  
  
Afraid that Garth had blown it, Cas snuck a glance at Gabe. Gabe wasn’t paying attention though; he was stroking his goatee and looking over the choices. “Yeah. He’s the number guy. I’m a sales rep and our older brother owns the place.”  
  
Garth’s eyebrows rose. “Wow, that’s quite a family you got. I’m an only child myself.”  
  
Letting out a relieved breath, Cas prayed to whatever was listening that this guy, despite the rocky start, wasn’t as bad at lying as Cas had thought. “There’s more; but, we don’t really talk about it.” Both he and Garth had already had this conversation over a quick lunch at Dean’s garage.  
  
Thinking of Dean’s garage, Cas checked his watch. He was supposed to drop by after work. The newest Lemon was a real issue. It was going to need some major work and Dean was considering hiring help. Cas wasn’t entirely sure what their conversation was going to be about; but, he was happy he’d get to see Dean again. His face was flushing again at the thought. Sooner or later, he’d have to get up the courage to actually ask Dean out; Cas was pretty sure that Dean swung that way.  
  
“I think I’ll take that last one, the one with the cherry Twizzlers.” Gabe elbowed Cas gently in the ribs. “You know that I like anything cherry.”  
  
Scoffing, Cas rolled his eyes. Garth turned into the one room shack to get Gabe’s treat.  
  
Since he was looking at Cas again, Gabe noticed his blush. “Oh my, Cassie, do you like this guy?” Gabe was wearing an extremely skeptical look, not only questioning Cas’ blush but his taste in men.  
  
Cas shook his head so hard that he thought it would unhinge like the steering column of the Lemon in Dean’s shop two weeks back. He grimaced at the thought of getting near Garth in anyway other than platonic friendship.  
  
“Oooooooh, Cassie’s got a new boy toy.” Gabe turned and leaned an elbow on the small counter outside Garth’s window.  
  
Looking around at the kids who still weren’t paying them any attention, Cas waved his hand for Gabe to quiet down. “Shhhhhhhhh. No, I don’t.”  
  
Smirking, Gabe’s eyebrows rose in jest. “So, it’s a crush. Who’s the guy who isn’t jumping on my cute little brother? Does he not have eyes?”  
  
“Oh, he has eyes, alright.” Garth handed Gabe his ice cream before realizing his error. “I mean, unless he’s blind or something.”  
  
Cas almost face-palmed right there.  
  
A flask was plucked out of Gabe’s suit pocket. “He’s not into you, ice cream boy.” He dumped some of the flask’s contents into his small ice cream bowl. “But, he is into somebody.” One of his eyebrows was arched into his forehead when he looked back at Cas.  
  
\---  
  
Leaving work was a relief. Gabe had been insufferable the rest of the day. It was probably exacerbated because he was full up on sweets and cherry cordiale. Cas lived fairly close and walked to work regularly; Dean’s garage was on his way back to his house. It was a bit ironic that they’d never crossed paths before that day; well, except that it was Dean’s father in the garage before Dean moved back to town. Maybe it wasn’t as ironic as Cas first thought. He pushed open the door to the office area. “Hello.”  
  
Bobby, they’d met a few times, was behind the counter, slumped over in his chair. His ball cap was pulled low over his face. Cas leaned sideways to peak at his face. It looked like he was sleeping. Trying not to wake him, Cas excused himself out the door and into the garage.  
  
Cas found Dean on his back under the newest car. “Hello, Dean.”  
  
There was a bang and a curse before Dean replied. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” He pushed out from under the car.  
  
Losing his breath for a moment, Cas fought the urge to bite his lip. Dean was covered in a sheen of sweat and his head was pushed up in odd angles, probably from running his fingers through it. He tended to do that when he was thinking or frustrated. Cas tended to want to do that when he was thinking of Dean or sexually frustrated. Beside the point.  
  
Oblivious to Cas’ internal turmoil or just uncaring of it, Dean raised his hands for Cas to take and pull him up. Cas did. “So,” Dean said as he wiped his hands of a red grease rag, “you ready to talk about this one?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the car and tossed the rag over onto a bar hanging on the wall.  
  
“Definitely.” Cas smiled, trying to convey kindness instead of flirtiness. There was a time and place for flirting and business meeting weren’t it; but, Dean didn’t seem to get that memo.  
  
Dean lolled his head to one side. It was adorable and really hot because his eyes looked like those of a puppy dog with a leash in his mouth and his neck muscles were stretched out and taut. Cas was going to die before this meeting was over. “What’s this?” One of Dean’s hands came up to Cas’ chin; his thumb swiped over Cas’ scruff. “It looks pretty good. A few patches, here and there.” Using his thumb and curled pointer finger he pinched Cas’ chin and moved it back and forth, inspecting. “You may want to consider less up toward your ears; it’s not growing quite as well up here.” He let go and tapped his finger lightly near where Cas’ jaw met his ear. “A goatee maybe?”  
  
Even though he was dumbstruck and his mouth wasn’t working, Cas had the presence to shake his head at the suggestion. “My brother has a goatee; I hate it. He’s made the courageous decision to grow it out just to annoy me more.” Cas was trying to retain his blush. He wasn’t sure if Dean did this to everyone or not.  
  
They were interrupted by a rapping on the metal garage door. Dean glanced over to see Garth cupping his eyes to the window and peeking in.  
  
Dean turned his head back to Cas a sarcastic quirk to his eyebrows. “I told him to swing by with his van at some point today for one more check on a wonky hose; so, he shows up at quarter to close.”  
  
Stepping away and pushing Dean’s shoulder in the direction of the door, Cas shrugged. “Give him some credit; he just bought the place next to us. He’s selling ice cream out of a tiny shack.” Cas watched Dean’s back muscles while he hefted up the door. “Doesn’t even have a sign yet.” He found a stool and pushed up onto it; afterward, he realized that he should have checked it for grease.  
  
Of the now many times that he’d visited Dean at the garage, Cas had managed to ruin many of his clothes with grease stains. The cleaner that Dean had given him had proven to be a lifesaver – and pant-saver.  
  
Looking at Garth through the now open garage door, Dean cocked his head to the side. “You opened an ice cream shop?” He pointed Garth to the van that was lined up with the second door. “Bring ‘er up here; I got a car in the other bay.”  
  
Nodding, Garth jingled his keys and practically hopped back over to the van.  
  
Dean moved to the far side of the bay so that Garth could pull the van in. “Hey, Cas? Where did you park?”  
  
“I didn’t.” Cas tucked his hands under his but on the stool. He shrugged. “I don’t really drive. I live close enough to walk.”  
  
The rumble of the van cut off and Garth stepped back out.  
  
Turning back around, Dean pointed a mocking glare at Garth. “What is this I hear about an ice cream shop? What happened to the beach house?” He smirked in good humor and started to gather his tools.  
  
Garth shrugged, using his eyebrows more than his shoulders. “I’m not gonna get there in this thing.”  
  
A pang of guilt rang through Cas.  
  
“But, that’s okay. He had another buddy who needed the place more than me; so, I figured ‘why not’, ya know?” He offered a true smile at Dean then turned and shot the same one to Cas. Apparently, he didn’t blame Cas for the faults in his van.  
  
It didn’t take long with Dean under the van. It turned out that his version of checking on the wonky hose was tugging on it and seeing if it was loose. It turned out that it wasn’t; so, he slid back out and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Looks good.” He kicked his floor roller to the side. “I think I should get an ice cream out of this.”  
  
“Well, I was about to head back. I was trying to shut everything down; but, I knew I had to get over here before 5; so… Do you want one?” Garth wore an expression of pure, genuine kindness.  
  
“Yeah.” Dean turned to Cas, “You okay with that?”  
  
Shrugging, Cas got up and started toward the door. Dean and Garth seemed to take that as a ‘Yes’ so they both climbed into the van. Cas climbed into the back seat shortly after the other two got in their respective places. Garth’s car was filled with the smell of the lemon air freshener. It was beginning to be one of Cas’ favorite smells.  
  
\---  
  
Cas sat, jacketless, at one of the tables out front of the shack. Garth had gone around to the back and was getting them each some ice cream.  
  
Busy knocking his knuckles against the wooden picnic table’s top, Dean called over his shoulder. “Why do you only serve chocolate and vanilla? You know that the diner up the road sells the same stuff right?”  
  
“Nope.” Garth called through the window. “That’s not good. I’ll lose my customers once the novelty wears off.” His voice had taken on a whining tone, a nasally note.  
  
The knocking paused. “I don’t know. Ellen starts to shoo them away after a bit; you may not lose all of your business.” He resumed his patterned table-drumming.  
  
Tapping faint with his fingers along to Dean’s beat, Cas sighed. “You just need to get some other flavors. Be exotic.” He smiled at Dean as he added an elaborate secondary melody to his beat.  
  
Dean grinned back. “Yeah, like instead of having the ‘Cherry Dream’ – that’s your best seller, right? – being chocolate ice cream with all things cherry on it; try a cherry ice cream or slushy or something.” His knocking became more vigorous.  
  
The back door of the shack swung open and Garth returned with two paper cups of ice cream. Dean had gotten the ‘Tart Bomb’, a mix of lemon heads and sour patch kids on vanilla ice cream, and Cas had asked for the ‘Orange Creamsicle’, vanilla ice cream with the orange slice candies and Werther’s orange candies. Using his spoon, Cas plucked a Werther’s candy from his treat and put it in his mouth to melt.  
  
From Garth’s pocket came a mostly empty bag of Twizzlers and a box of Lemonheads. He pulled out a Twizzler and gnawed on the end. “Okay, so cherry; what else?”  
  
Dean doubled over the table and grabbed at his forehead. “Ahck, brain freeze.” Garth only laughed, chowing down a three more twizzlers; but, Cas reached forward and touched his hand to Dean’s arm.  
  
“Take your thumb and press it to the roof of your mouth. Or your tongue.” Cas left off the atrocious, ‘Or my tongue’ because he had a sense of appropriate setting.  
  
Doing as he was told, Dean sucked his thumb into his mouth. Cas second-guessed his brilliance on that suggestion, biting his lips and trying to keep the blush from flooding his cheeks.  
  
As he recovered, Dean ground out, “Do you know what you’ll do in the winter?”  
  
“Not yet.” Garth picked up the now empty wrapper to the Twizzlers. He stood from the table, presumably to throw the garbage away.  
  
Tugging a hand through his hair, Dean’s face turned serious. “I wish I could think like that.” He stuck his spoon back into his ice cream and turned to Cas. “So, uh, the amount of work coming through the garage means I need to hire someone else, especially since Bobby has to go back to working at his own place – it’s almost peak season for him. I, just, I uh,” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and turned his eyes downward. “I wanted to make sure you knew and everything because the labor price would go up a bit. Is that cool?”  
  
Cas twirled his spoon in his ice cream. “Are you letting me know or asking me?” Cas wasn’t offended or upset; he just wanted to know which it was. The way that Dean had said it was a bit awkward. Dean didn’t really do awkward.  
  
“Telling?” Dean bit his lip.  
  
Cas pulled his eyebrows together. “Are you worried that this will change our deal? Because it won’t.” Cas leaned over and nudge Dean’s shoulder with his own. “If you need to hire another person to work in the shop to deal with the work load, then do it.” Cas smiled. It was weird talking about this; it was like Dean had asked him for business advice. He turned back to his ice cream. “Do you have anyone in mind?”  
  
The seriousness clouding Dean’s usually upbeat expression faded. “Yeah, a friend of mine was looking to move back to town. I offered the position.”  
  
Part of Cas was happy that it could work out that well; but, another part worried that this friend of Dean’s may not like him. What if this friend decided that Cas wasn’t good enough for Dean? Cas bit his lip and played with his spoon.  
  
Sitting back down, Garth picked up the Lemonheads and lifted one of the flaps before dumping some into his hand. “Anyway… what other flavor should I get? I only have a two flavor machine; I mean, I could get more flavors; but, maybe later.” He popped one of the sour candies into his mouth. “I don’t have that kind of money at the moment.”  
  
Cas picked up the Lemonhead box from the table and shook it back and forth. He glared at the two other men before rolling his eyes. “Duh, lemon. Your other flavor should be lemon.”  
  
“Ooh, yeah, that would be good.” Dean took another heaping spoon of ice cream from his bowl to his mouth. “It would be like frozen lemonade.” His spoon froze halfway to his mouth. “You know what would be better? Lemon ice cream with a bit of lemon cello mixed in; the tart and the- mmm, yeah.” Dean moaned around his spoon.  
  
Garth huffed a quick laugh. “Surprisingly enough, you’re not the first person to make that suggestion.” Garth threw another Lemonhead into his mouth. “His brother told me his ice cream was better with a hint of alcohol, too.”  
  
“The one that sold you the van?” Dean’s hackles and eyebrows rose in unison, while Cas put his face into his hand and shook his head at Gabriel’s antics.  
  
Shaking his head, Garth responded. “No, the other one, the short one.”  
  
“Wait,” Dean swiveled his torso to face Cas better, “how many brothers do you have again?”  
  
Question ignored, Cas lifted his head from his palm and looked to Garth, “So, cherry and lemon?”  
  
Garth nodded.  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
“So, Daddy and Papa told Mr. Fitz to sell cherry and lemon?” Dimples appeared over John’s eyebrows when his face scrunched in confusion. “And Daddy and Papa only met because Uncle Zach sold lemons.”  
  
Bobby nodded, letting the kid work through the syllogism. “So, when Uncle Zach sells lemons…?”  
  
Mary piped up. “Mr. Fitz stocks lemon ice cream. But, what does that have to do with-?”  
  
“Can we get ice cream?” Melissa, Dean and Cas’ oldest and also the oldest of the group, shot her hand up in the air. She was polite when she wanted to be; but, usually a little terror, taking after Dean at every turn. She was the one that would take apart one of the show vehicles, if he didn’t watch her well enough.  
  
The two topics on the table were not the most appetizing; so, Bobby tried to think of another one, some other distraction.  
  
“So you think that’s how Dean and Cas got together?”  
  
Bobby looked up to see one of his oldest friends. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun and she was carrying a tray with her. “Would you look right there, Grandma Mary.?” She hit him with the back of her hand and Bobby laughed. “I was just telling these kidjits how those blockheads got together.”  
  
“Well,” Mary, the elder, cut in, “how about you guys each get one of my blue ribbon lemon bars and I’ll tell you what really happened.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could that be considered a cliffhanger? I dunno.
> 
> me: cockleddean.tumblr.com  
> kams_log: lovefromdean.tumblr.com  
> tesla: venuscas.tumblr.com  
> art by lauren: pizzascully.tumblr.com (aka aureatecas) [[Full Piece HERE](http://40.media.tumblr.com/1212580baccf5bef6dea5e20345717d5/tumblr_inline_nuoc8yqtQD1r5oel5_500.jpg)]


	3. ...Mary makes lemon bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary chips in her bit of the story. One could argue that it's a sweet bit; others may argue that it's a bit tart. 
> 
> In other news, Charlie has flown back in from where life had taken her and is currently living with Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WILL EDIT THIS BETTER WHEN IT ISN'T HALF PAST MIDNIGHT!!!
> 
> UNBETA'D. UNPROOF'D. UNEDIT'D. Story is mine; characters are not.

WUZSL Chapter 2  
  
When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons… Chapter 2 | …Mary Makes Lemon Bars

NOW  
  
\---  
  
Mary placed the tray of lemon bars on the counter and pulled over one of the sale associate chairs. When she sat, she situated her skirt like she were a queen. It made every one of the grandkids readjust themselves, too.  
  
Bobby thought that even though Little Mary was a spitting image of her grandmother, that it was really Erin that inherited the regality gene. The kid, Erin, sat with their head held high. They had collar bones that rivaled Gilda’s, their mother, the only child carried by Gilda.  
  
Rocking, Bobby thought it was funny that Erin was so much like Cas; but, really it was because they were so much like Gilda. Gilda and Cas had a funny story too; he’d have to remember to bring it up.  
  
“Well,” Grandma Mary started, “It all started when the churches decided to get together and do a joint bake sale and baking contest to raise money for the new hospital…”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
Cas glowered at the flyer. Dean wiped his hands on the red rag. “What’s up with you and what do you have against bake sales?” Personally, Dean was looking forward to it. He was going to be surrounded by some of the best sweets in the county and he’d probably be able to charm his way into getting them cheap.  
  
“I have been guilted into bringing a pie – actually, six of them.” Cas took a clear push pin off of the bulletin board in the repair shop’s office area and stabbed it through the center of the neon orange flyer. “I didn’t want to make anything.” He repeated the gesture; but, this time stabbed the face of the lady smiling and showing off her blue ribbon cake in cartoon form. “My sister insisted.” Then he stabbed the judge in the groin. He then smiled at the flyer. “Much better.”  
  
Staring at the flyer, Dean took a step back from the now content Cas. “Your sister attends church?” It wasn’t that Dean had anything against church; he just hadn’t gone since he was little. His mother had grown up in a very strict household, having escaped that structured lifestyle she hadn’t done the whole church-thing for a while. Recently, within the past few years according to Dean’s best estimates, she’d taken up the habit, again. He hadn’t been around; so, it only really hit him once he’d returned. She’d invited him a few times too; but, he just couldn’t get up the courage.  
  
Cas walked further into the office and spoke. “My entire family goes to church; my sister just happens to be on the committee for this darn bake sale event.” He rounded and stared Dean down; it was like he was daring Dean to react to what he said.  
  
Swallowing back the lust that burbled in his throat from the intensity of Cas’ stare, Dean made sure not to react outwardly. Inwardly, however, he was reevaluating Cas; not in a ‘What the hell?!?’ sort of way; but, in the ‘Oh, okay, I’m gonna have to get used to that’ sort of way. “Okay. I don’t; but, I’m not going to bite your head off because of your religion.”  
  
Relaxing, Cas slumped into the rolling chair. It was free of Bobby. The gruff man had been splitting his time between the repair shop and his and Dean’s mom’s antique place up the street. Bobby did more of the old cars and furniture thing, while Dean’s mother did the china wear and creepy doll type stuff.  
  
“So, what are you going to be taking?” Dean raised his eyebrow; if Cas’ sister had guilted him into this, then she must have thought Cas was pretty good at it.  
  
Cas shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you. You’d be biased for the judging.” When Cas looked up, he was wearing a tired but genuine grin.  
  
Swinging his hips a bit more than necessary when he crossed the room, Dean flicked his eyes to the side then back to Cas. “I thought that there were, like, judges for the judging.” He stood a few feet away from Cas in a charged moment.  
  
They were looking at each other in the eye. Dean had his full swagger turned on and by the looks of Cas, he was eating it right up. Cas scooted the rolling chair closer. “There’s also a People’s Choice Award.”  
  
Dean swallowed. Cas was almost in blowjob range. He was really hoping that his brain wasn’t playing tricks on him. “You think I’d stuff the ballot box or something?” Dean smirked trying to cover how affected he was by all of this.  
  
Raising and eyebrow and leaning forward in the chair, Cas looked up at Dean through his eyelashes. “I’m saying you have a way of getting what you want.”  
  
\---  
  
As Dean remembered it, his cock twitched. Nothing had happened, though; once the moment had ended, Cas had strode back to work, saying that his lunch break was over. He really wanted to march back over to the man and demand that he follow through on whatever promises had been made; but…  
  
There were no promises. Knowing Dean’s giant crush, he could just be twisting the meaning behind totally platonic gestures. He really needed someone to talk to about it.  
  
Lucky for him, he was waiting at the airport for his best friend in the whole world. Charlie and her girlfriend broke it off; and, now, she was moving back. He couldn’t wait. They’d attended the same middle and high schools then went to colleges within 40 minutes of each other. They’d had some of the best times.  
  
Once, when they were in their sophomore year, they had driven over to the cis chic house; it was one of the nastiest fraternities on Charlie’s university’s campus. They spray painted dicks and rainbows all over their front door. Best thing of all, they hadn’t gotten caught. Dean grinned at the memory.  
  
“Hey, nerd!”  
  
Dean broke out of his thoughts and turned to see one of his favorite people. Charlie had her space-invader’s sunglasses on and one of her Atari shirts. He smiled. “Who you calling ‘nerd’, bitch?”  
  
At that, Charlie dropped her bags and launched at Dean for a hug. “Gosh, I’ve missed you so much.” She squeezed her arms around Dean’s neck tighter. “You know that I love you, right? And that you’re a saint for letting me live with you?”  
  
Hugging back, Dean took in a long breath through his nose. The smell reminded him of sleepovers and homework left undone. It was like a home away from home. When he thought of home, he thought of the smell of lemons. His mother made the best lemon bars and- “Hey, Charlie, guess what?” He let her go and scooped up the handles to one of her bags.  
  
“What?”  
  
Leading the way to the pristinely kept Impala, Dean slung the bag over his shoulder. “Tomorrow, the churches are doing a big fundraiser for a new medical center. More likely all the churches are going to try and out-do each other; either way, it’ll be worth it.” He pushed open the glass door and let Charlie duck out past him.  
  
She flipped her hair over her shoulder to look back at him. “Why’s that?” She raised an eyebrow.  
  
“It’s a bake sale and contest.”  
  
Charlie’s entire face light up. The grin that emerged almost split her face in two.  
  
Being the reason for that smile stirred a glow in his chest; it had definitely been too long since he’d seen his best friend. “That’s right; Mom’s making lemon bars and cherry pie.”  
  
\---  
  
Despite being up late talking to Charlie, Dean made sure that they arrived there a whole hour before the bake sale actually started, one, because he told his mom that they’d help her with her table and moving her army of sweets; and, two, because he knew that his mother’s lemon bars wouldn’t last long. So, with bags under his and Charlie’s eyes, he sidled up to his mother’s car hands outstretched and ready to carry pie.  
  
“Your favorite two slaves have arrived.” Charlie called toward the dark blue van.  
  
Sam poked his head around the end of the van and gave a big smile. “Charlie.” He lumbered over and wrapped Charlie in a big hug. “It’s been forever.”  
  
“You’re huge.” She pulled down on Sam’s neck, squeezing her happiness into him. “Last I saw you, you were Dean’s height.” She smiled. “You’re a full grown sasquatch, now.” She pulled away and stretched onto her tippy-toes to ruffle his long hair.  
  
Blushing at the compliments, Sam grinned down at her. “Thanks,” he said in an almost sarcastic tone.  
  
Next, Mary came around the car. She outstretched her arms and beckoned what was the closest thing she had to a daughter in for a hug. “How are you?” She held the girl close. “You still like cherry pie?”  
  
“If there wasn’t cherry pie, I’d be sleeping right now.” Charlie said gravely. “I would be, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world.” She shrugged in the embrace and slipped away. She leveled her eye with Mary. “Seriously.”  
  
Mary patted the girl on the shoulder. “I know.”  
  
With Mary as the conductor, the four of them managed to get all of the pies and lemon bars to the table in one piece, despite Dean and Charlie’s best efforts toward the contrary. Sam was hanging a banner on the tree behind them, when Charlie managed to fall asleep in one of the shaded, folding lawn chairs.  
  
She hadn’t even gotten a piece of the pie; Dean shook his head at her lack of stamina.  
  
“Well, she probably has jet-lag, too.” Sam said over his shoulder while he struggled with a corner of the banner enough. Dean took pity on his and skulked over to help. Sam flipped his hair back. “So, how have you been? I haven’t seen you as much as I thought I would?”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry; let’s sync up our cycles.” He mocked in a low voice. “When will mom be back?” Still holding the corner, Dean twisted his shoulders and torso around and tried to pick his mother out of the crowd.  
  
Finishing the bow in the ribbon, Sam let go carefully to make sure that the knot and silky material would take the weight of the vinyl banner. Dean glared at him, he, Sam, and Charlie had all been boy scouts and knew how to tie good knots.  
  
Sam stepped back and nodded for Dean to let go, too. “She had to go find the table where they check in and stuff.” He glanced over the table full of singles, four packs, and full dishes of cherry pie and lemon bars. “Do you think she’ll win?”  
  
“I hope so.” Dean grinned. “It’ll be a reason for her to make them more often.”  
  
Barely getting in the bitchface, Sam was cut-off before he could say anything more on the subject.  
  
“Hello, Dean.”  
  
Dean whirled around to see Cas. He smiled immediately and bit his lip. “Heya.” He slid his hands up and down his thighs before noticing that the action was a little weird and slipping his hands into his pockets. “How are you?”  
  
Eyes smiling more than his lips, Cas looked at the table and his eyebrows lifted a bit from his blue eyes. “Your mother is in the lemon category, I see.”  
  
“Yeah and she’s going to win.” Dean ginned and puffed up his chest with pride. “She makes the absolute best lemon bars.” He picked one up. “You wanna try one? My treat.”  
  
Cas shook his head and stared where Dean was holding the single wrapped lemon bar. “I’d love to; but, I’d probably puke.”  
  
Concerned, Dean replaced the lemon bar with the others and rounded the end of the table. “Why? Are you sick?” He wasn’t sure what to do once there wasn’t a table separating them. He didn’t know what to do with his hands; so, he put them back in his pockets.  
  
“No, nothing like that Dean.” Cas shrugged one shoulder in a cute, little, bashful movement. “I’ve just been handling a lot of lemon the last few days.” Cas offered a half smiled.  
  
Dean sucked in a breath. “Oh. So, you’re in the lemon category, too.”  
  
Nodding, Cas fiddled with the yellow plastic table cloth with one hand and the other hung limp at his other side.  
  
That was going to be an issue. Dean had wanted to vote for Cas’ treat no matter how good or bad, show his respect and interest and stuff; but, he couldn’t not vote for his mother’s. He could always vote for the cherry pie; but, he really LOVED the lemon bars.  
  
“I see that you’re having an internal crisis. Well,” Cas hefted then let his hands drop to his sides, hitting his thighs. “I’m going to head back over to my table. It’s over there.” He pointed over Dean’s shoulder and Dean followed his finger to a large table teeming with a rag-tag gaggle of people. A red-haired lady was conducting them. A short man with a goatee was sitting back sucking on a lollipop. A woman with long blonde hair and sharp features was fussing over a peach pie. There were enough folding chairs gathered for a choir rehearsal.  
  
Dean whistled. “You’re church has quite the baking crew.”  
  
Barking out a laugh, Cas drew Dean’s attention back to him. He continued to laugh after Dean was thoroughly confused.  
  
“Did I say something wrong?” Dean’s face began to flush in embarrassment.  
  
Cas waved his hand to dismiss Dean’s question. He caught his breath and began to walk away. “The church gave my family their own table.” He waved sporting a gummy grin.  
  
“You’re family? All those people are related to you?!?”  
  
Either Cas ignored him or didn’t hear him through the bustling people. The red-haired lady turned to Cas and rushed him back around and seemed to instruct him to wave and talk to people. Cas caught Dean’s eyes through the crowd and widened them comically; the expression said ‘save me from this’.  
  
Dean laughed and turned around to two pairs of eyes giving him pointed looks.  
  
Sam spoke first. “Who was that?” He looked over and probably spotted the guy rather easily from his higher view-point.  
  
Dean wasn’t sure when Charlie had woken up; but, she was popping up and trying to find Cas with her eyes, too. “Was that Cas?”  
  
Mortified, Dean pulled a hand down his face and hoped that red wasn’t flooding his ears. He peeked out between his fingers. He’d wished she’d been tired enough to forget that part of last night’s conversation.  
  
Charlie jerked her head back around, hair flying around and whipping lightly at her other cheek. “He’s kinda dreamy.”  
  
\---  
  
Luckily, Dean hadn’t needed to come up with a reason to keep Sam or Charlie away from Cas. His mother returned to the table with a gossiping group of women talking animatedly and following her like a mother duck to her cherry pies. That was the beginning for a very long day.  
  
There wasn’t a moment to themselves. They sold piece after piece and tray after tray of Mary’s treats. She had begun the day ready for an army and the churches had delivered. It was almost four o’clock when Dean turned around from their cooler of water bottles to see Sam sell the last lemon bar.  
  
Dean dropped the water back into the cooler and charged toward Sam. “What the hell, Sam?” He watched the woman walk away with his single lemon bar. “That was supposed to be mine.”  
  
Putting the money into the money envelope that each of the tables had gotten at check-in, Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Mom set some aside for you. We all know that your worst sin is gluttony.” Sam handed the envelope to Mary with his best ‘I am the angel son’ look.  
  
Mary’s eyebrows were raised and her bright eyes followed the woman same woman with the lemon bar. “No, I hadn’t had a chance to put any to the side. That really was the last one.” She pursed her lips and tucked the cash in her hand into the sun-faded orange envelope. “Well, then…”  
  
“Well then what?!?” Dean had waited all month for that lemon bar. His mother didn’t make them very often; sometimes he even had to bribe her to make them for his birthday. They weren’t the easiest thing to make; but, they were one of the best.  
  
Turning back to his brother, Dean must have looked more sad than annoyed; because his brother had taken on a bashful composure, bowing his head and twisting a toe into the ground. Sam swallowed. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know.”  
  
Dean let out a dramatic sigh, waving his arms in the air and looking absolutely childish. Not even his newly trimmed beard helped him to appear more his age at that moment. “Come on! I waited so patiently. I did everything you said. I worked here all day.” He whined and kicked a clump of stray long grass.  
  
“I think it’s time for you to go home, Dean.” Mary patted him gently on the elbow. “You’re tired. How about you and Charlie head back? Take a nap?” She turned and looked at Charlie who had been taking equal turns at sleeping and helping. She was curled up sideways, knees to her chest in the lawn chair. “Take a long nap and think about coming to dinner tomorrow night.”  
  
Pouting, Dean had to admit that his mother had a point. He huffed and turned to Charlie. With his arms crossed over his chest, Dean kicked the leg of the chair. The kick jostled Charlie; but, didn’t wake her. She mumbled and repositioned her head.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean kneeled down next to her and carefully shook her. “Charlie?”  
  
She made a snorting noise when she woke. “Merry Christmas.” She took a moment to wake up enough to notice Dean and smile. “Is it time to go?”  
  
Dean nodded. “Come on, it’s not a long walk.”  
  
Then it was Charlie’s turn to pout and throw a temper tantrum. Dean smiled. He was just really happy to have all these people in his life at that moment, even if he missed out on the no doubt blue prize in the lemon category.  
  
\---  
  
Dean was awoken from his nap by a loud knock on the door. It was forceful enough to shake the bell that hung there. “Coming!” He crawled over Charlie, who was – as she had said earlier – dead to the world. He slipped through the open door to the back room and pulled it to so that Charlie would have her privacy. She was new to the whole ‘living in a public space’ thing.  
  
He didn’t remember it; but, he seemed to have had the mindfulness to shut the blinds when they stumbled in dead-tired from their day. Using two fingers, he peeked out and saw an eyeful of sun drenched blonde hair, his mother’s hair. He groaned, flipped the lock, and pulled open the door. “I thought you said that I’d see you tomorr-?”  
  
Yeah, his mother was standing there; but, so was a very red-faced Cas. Dean’s eyes were caught by how tired Cas looked. Why would his mother drag this man around after such a long day? Dean felt second-hand pity for him. “Hey, Cas, I’m sorry that my moth-”  
  
“You know him?” Mary asked in shock then pushed in past Dean. “How did you two meet?” She made herself at home by putting her purse on the counter and shrugging off her jacket.  
  
Dean wasn’t sure if telling his mother about the lemons that Cas’ brother sold was a good idea. His tongue felt like it had wrapped around itself and knotted in a boy-scout-worthy knot.  
  
Gratefully, Cas supplied an answer. “I was having car trouble and I was in here a lot.” He shrugged. “The repairs are complete now; but, it was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t related to me for a change.”  
  
“Oh, you don’t have many friends, then?” Mary tilted her head and combed her fingers through the ends of her hair. “Coworkers?”  
  
Dean laughed. “They’re related to him.” He turned back to Cas and patted him on the shoulder. He noticed that Cas was carrying a casserole dish. “Ooh, what do you have here?” He poised his hands to grab it and waited for Cas to offer the case to him.  
  
When Cas did, Dean rushed it to the counter and unzipped the top. Inside was a delicious looking Lemon Meringue Pie. Dean’s mouth watered.  
  
“Guess who won the lemon category?” Mary shook her head to shimmy her hair back over her shoulders and put her hands on her hips in a proud stance.  
  
Given his mother’s obvious pride, Dean deadpanned. “It must have been Cas.”  
  
Cas huffed out a tired sigh. “Well, you wouldn’t be wrong.”  
  
Whirling around, Dean looked between his friend and his mother. “What?”  
  
“It was a tie.” Cas smiled, exhaustion evident. Dean just wanted to wrap him up and tuck him in next to Charlie and let all his favorite people rest.  
  
Mary nodded to the pie on the counter. “I bought that one for you. I figure that it would have to be a good substitute since it tied with my lemon bars.” She grinned. Dean wasn’t sure how she could still be so bubbly.  
  
Crossing the room, Dean hugged his mother. “Thank you.” He didn’t hesitate before doing the same to Cas. “Thank you.”  
  
Fisting the fabric over Dean’s shoulder blades, Cas squeezed into the hug. “You’re very welcome, Dean.”  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
Mary looked over at her half-eaten pan of lemon bars. “I think that boy deserved the blue ribbon all to himself.”  
  
Erin was looking at Mary when they spoke. “But, that doesn’t go back to Uncle Zach selling Lemons.” They blinked their calculating stare forward and reminded Bobby of Cas. Each grandchild had their own version of the ‘Cas look’ and it was utterly adorable to catch.  
  
Nodding vigorously, Mary – the elder – grinned like she’d just eaten the entire pan of lemon bars by herself. That was another look that each of the grandchildren had a version of. She leaned forward. “You’re very right, Erin. I make lemon bars only when I want to make lemon bars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kam: [lovefromdean.tumblr.com](lovefromdean.tumblr.com)  
> me: [cockleddean.tumblr.com](cockleddean,tumblr.com)


	4. …Charlie (Sorta) Makes Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary makes it very clear that she is the reason why her eldest son got together with his husband.
> 
> Cas keeps bringing Dean his blue ribbon pies and misunderstandings force them to finally voice some things that needed to be voiced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll edit it tomorrow.
> 
> UNBETA'D. UNPROOF'D. UNEDIT'D. Story is mine; characters are not.
> 
> UPDATES WILL BE ON FRIDAYS NOW.

When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons… Chapter 4 | …Charlie (Sorta) Makes Dinner

NOW  
  
\---  
  
Mary was about to hop up and leave, Bobby could tell by the way she was tucking her hands around her skirt. She had come and brought the youngins a snack and that was about all she was supposed to do. Part of Bobby’s being stuck with the herd was a punishment from Cas.  
  
Shrugging, Bobby rocked in the rocking chair and closed his eyes briefly. Little did Cas know, Bobby enjoyed watching them all.  
  
A chubby little hand shot up from the middle of the group, Moose had been kind enough to her sister to use the arm on the side that Mary wasn’t leaning on. “But, Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas aren’t together yet. Grandma Mary, you said that you got them together.”  
  
Grandma Mary flicked her eyes over to Moose in a daring sort of way.  
  
Staring back, Moose challenged her grandmother right back. It reminded Bobby of when Sam had asked his mother about the solar system when he was little. That is an oddly specific thing to be reminded of; but, Sam had wanted to know about it and Mary hadn’t wanted to buy the kid the room star and space projector-thing. She had told him to get the money himself; and, he had. He’d sold all of his brother’s lemonade mix at the counter while Dean was at summer camp.  
  
Settling back in, Mary combed her fingertips through the ends of her hair over her shoulder. “Well, it didn’t stop at that one pie…”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
Cas was up to his elbows in pie filling, again. He had made about one pie every two weeks and took it over to Dean. He was about due for another visit. Lucky for Cas, Charlie thought he was cool. The new attendant at Dean’s shop, and one of Dean’s most trusted givers of judgment, was the same age at Dean. According to what Cas had learned, they’d been friends since middle school and she had been his best friend ever since.  
  
Peeking in the oven, Cas noted that the pie’s crust was finished setting, he used one of his bee-shaped pot holders to remove it and let it set. Cas had forgotten how much he loved cooking. Way back in high school, he’d taken a culinary class instead of home ec and almost convinced his step-father that culinary school was a viable career path.  
  
Cas stretched plastic wrap over the completed filling and set it over to wait for the crust to be cool enough. He decided to go and flip through Netflix on his tv. He had once logged in on Dean’s laptop so they could watch a cult SciFi movie that Dean liked and Dean absolutely disagreed with the amount of documentaries that were in Cas’ recently watched list. Dean had been very clear that it was okay to watch documentaries; but, one couldn’t only watch documentaries.  
  
Chuckling to himself, Cas found himself looking through the Science Fiction category. He had always enjoyed those kind of shows when he was young; but, once he understood enough about science to pick apart the technologies, they weren’t as appealing. Dean said you just had to believe the basic premise and base everything else on the original assumption. With that in mind, Cas was attempting to watch the genre again.  
  
He settled on a newer alien one with epic cinematography and a glowing review from Dean. He was only 15 minutes in when there was a knock on his door.  
  
“Coming.” He made to get up; but, the sound of a key being fit into the lock sounded. Cas groaned.  
  
The door swung open and Gabe waltzed in. “Ooh, Cassie, what are you doing? It’s Friday. You’re young. Live a little, will ya?” He was wearing his leather jacket and a pair of dark jeans that told Cas he was about to go somewhere that he needed to impress someone, probably a potential lay.  
  
Shifting back onto the couch and tucking his socked feet under himself, Cas pretended that his brother did not just walk into Cas’ half of the duplex. Ignoring him usually made him leave faster.  
  
Gabe sniffed the air. “Are you making another lemon pie?” He crossed the room and plopped himself on the couch. “Where do you put it all?” He poked Cas’ stomach. “You don’t look like you’re getting pudgy.  
  
Annoyed that Gabe seemed to be sticking around, Cas swatted his hands away. “They aren’t for me.” He paused the show because he knew that his brother wouldn’t let it go anytime soon. “  
  
“Not for you? Well, I don’t see you taking them into church for anything. Is it a guy?” Gabe stroked his goatee and raised an eyebrow in jest.  
  
Part of Cas wanted to come up with a perfect response; but, it took him too long and the dawn of giddiness on Gabe’s face pulled a blush out of Cas. “Yeah, okay, fine. It’s a guy.” Cas shifted so that he was facing Gabe more. “It’s weird.”  
  
“It’s weird? It’s not the weird ice cream dude next door right? I mean, the lemon and cherry thing is genius; but, that guy is not-right.” He shook his head a little in thought of Garth.  
  
Cas gasped out a guffaw. “No, definitely not.” He laughed more. “Garth will never get out of the friend-zone.” Cas was smiling wide enough that his cheeks hurt; the idea was truly absurd.  
  
Nodding, Gabe looked relieved; his taut shoulders deflated and relaxed. “Good.” He shook his head like he was trying to dislodge a thought, probably the thought of Garth as a brother-in-law. Cas almost started laughing again at the thought. “Then who is it?”  
  
“Just a guy I met.” Cas still hadn’t let Gabe in on the secret about the Lemons that Zach was selling; he wasn’t sure what side Gabe would be on. Gabe seemed to care a whole lot for the bottom line, which was admittedly made much larger by the Lemons. From what Cas had found, the cars came from a man named Bartholomew two states over and that Zach was filtering the extra money into an account under a different name. The entire thing was especially douchey.  
  
“I can probably spot him as the chubby one that smells like lemons.” Gabe laughed. “I mean, how many pies have you given him?”  
  
Cas shrugged. “He really likes my pies. He tried one at the bake sale and now I make them for him.” Cas bit his lip. In the background, the tv screen when to the screen saver.  
  
Standing, Gabe patted Cas’ knee. “Just don’t give him diabetes.” He walked toward the door. Before he crossed the door jamb, he turned back a quirked a lewd eyebrow. “Unless it’s with your sweet love-making.” He waggled his eyebrow to intensify the effect.  
  
“Good bye, Gabe.” Cas flushed again and glared at his brother.  
  
Gabe winked and pointed both pointer fingers at Cas. “You making it the way your mom did? With the limoncello?”  
  
Getting up as well, Cas nodded. “Of course, it’s the best that way.” He trudged back to the kitchen trusting that Gabe would close then lock the door behind him.  
  
\---  
  
The pie was still warm when Cas knocked on the door to the repair shop. He ended up waiting and putting it together the next morning, knowing that Dean would prefer a fresh, warm lemon pie and any reason to eat something unhealthy for breakfast.  
  
He waited, rocking onto and off of the balls of his feet and trying to peek around the blinds on the inside of the window.  
  
A few minutes passed and he knocked again.  
  
Dean wasn’t a morning person. He seemed to use his off days to sleep until half the say is gone before getting up to do anything. If they plan to do anything on a Saturday, it has to be after noon. Cas found it more cute than irresponsible, which is really saying something.  
  
The door did open, though, to show a clothed but rumpled Dean. “Heya, Cas.”  
  
Smiling, Cas held up his peace offering for waking Dean earlier than usual. “I brought you another pie.”  
  
Lighting up like the illegal fireworks that he and Gabe had set off when they first found Gabe’s mother, Dean lunged forward and cradled the casserole cozy to his middle and, with his free hand, unzipped the top to take a long sniff. “You are the best.”  
  
Cas grinned and stepped past Dean into the shop. It was neater than the first time he’d come in; it was even neater than when he had brought the first pie over. Dean wasn’t disorganized, per se, he just had a scattered organization system. Cas found himself right at home in that system; he could usually find what he needed to the haphazard paperwork.  
  
The Lawrence Car Repair Shop was much more homey than Church Street Auto. It was probably expected, since it indeed, doubled as Dean’s home; but, it also felt cozy. The sales floor where Cas worked was white and sterile and much to bright. Dean’s place felt more like a pub and less like a garage, wood-paneling and all.  
  
“Do you want any of the pie?” Dean pulled out a small stack of paper plates and flicked his eyes over to Cas with the question.  
  
Cas nodded. He does love the pie; it’s the best recipe ever. He pulled over one of the stools and waited while Dean’s cut and dished out. Busily watching, Cas smiled at his good fortune. At this point, he was fairly sure that Dean Winchester liked him. He’d go out of his way for him. They hung out and talked. They seemed to really understand the other. Sometimes they’d end up at Garth’s place; other times they’d walk around. Cas had pointed his house out to Dean on one walk. He smiled. Even Dean’s mother liked him, insisting on having him do some of the multi-church community outreach with her.  
  
With all these thoughts swarming in his head and Dean taking turns grinning at the pie then at him, Cas was on cloud nine. Just left of Dean’s ear, the door to the back living space opened and Charlie with an obvious bed head in her pajamas poked out. “Dean, we’re out of toothpaste.”  
  
“No we’re not.” Dean grinned over his shoulder at her. “There should be some in the bags on the dryer.”  
  
She turned and stalked back into the room. “Found it.”  
  
Oh.  
  
Cas felt really stupid. Sure, Charlie was a friend from when Dean was little; but, of course there was more to it than that. The way they acted around each other, like they were part of the same thing, dancing circles around others as a team. Feeling like his heart was punched out of his chest, Cas felt so dumb.  
  
Dean wasn’t into him. Dean was into Charlie. It made sense, really. They both liked SciFi and videogames. They both liked pop music and technology. Cas had been privy to one of their discussions about the newest Popular Science that came in the mail. They were both so charismatic and energetic.  
  
Swallowing, Cas tried to pretend that he was still as happy as he had been a moment before.  
  
“Charlie’s still not used to living in a place that’s so public.” Dean hefted the second piece to a plate, using his fingers to steady the warm slice of pie. He placed it perfectly on the plate then replaced the pie server to the dish and licked his fingers. “We’re actually looking for an apartment; you know, more room, more privacy. It get’s kinda weird when either of us is horny and it’s, you know, in a place of business and all that.”  
  
Biting his lip, Cas stared at the pie. Gosh, he was so naïve. Why would this Dean Winchester ever be interested in him? He wasn’t special; all he could do was make pie and lie to his brothers. Granted, it was blue ribbon pie and exposing his brother’s business fraud but still.  
  
Charlie reemerged with skinny jeans and a faded T-shirt. She went so well with Dean; how could Cas have missed it? It was like he was the ketchup and they were the salt and pepper. They belonged there all the time and with each other and Cas just sort of sat alongside them awkwardly and out of place, especially at breakfast, like right then. “We’ve been having trouble finding an apartment in a good price range with a big kitchen.” She was carrying a mug with her and sat in the desk chair rolled up next to Dean.  
  
“She’s looking for a big kitchen for some reason; but, we both know that she doesn’t cook.” Taking his first bite of his newest pie, Dean moaned. “Damn, this is good pie.”  
  
Cas was still stunned. He watched, nodding on autopilot.  
  
Reaching up, Charlie patted the side of Dean’s face, where his beard faded into skin and freckles. “I don’t; but, you do.” She grinned. “Besides, think of all the sexy times.”  
  
Immediately, Dean’s eyes flicked to Cas and red began to stain his cheeks. He licked his lip and looked like he wanted to melt or something.  
  
That was about all Cas’ heart could take. He stood quickly and the stool knocked over with a clatter. He ignored it and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, the only thing holding back the sob hiding there. “I’m going to – I’m going to leave, now.” He backed away from the table; his slice of pie resting there unattended. He almost tripped on the stool; but, managed not to at the last second, pivoting on his toes and following his momentum forward in a step instead of backward in a fall.  
  
“What’s up, Cas? Why are you-” Dean sounded confused beyond belief.  
  
Cas just felt like melting into the background for a while. He’d spend the rest of his weekend pretending that this didn’t happened, or more accurately, that the last few months of crushing-on-Dean didn’t happen.  
  
\---  
  
Cas has halfway through his fourth documentary of the day when there was a knock on his door. He figured it was Gabriel so he just waited for the tell-tale key-in-lock sound and eminent annoyance. Instead, though, the knocking happened again only louder.  
  
Wearing a pair of fuzzy socks that made him feel cozy, Cas sock-slid to the door. He was upset and being irrational was a symptom of that. He grasped the lock and twisted it then pulled the door open. He didn’t think it was Boy Scout popcorn season or Girl Scout cookie season; but, he could be wrong.  
  
On the other side of the door was Dean. “Hi, uh, can I come in?” He was blushing and had his hands dug deep into his pockets.  
  
“Why?” Cas blinked. He didn’t want to see Dean. He didn’t want to talk to Dean. He didn’t want anything to do with Dean.  
  
Dean looked him square in the eye. “Because I think that there has been a huge misunderstanding.” His eyes were pleading, shining even more than the green there usually did.  
  
Not wanting to talk about it, Cas stood still and blocked Dean’s entry. Yeah, okay, he screwed up and there was a misunderstanding; he thought that he and Dean had a thing when obviously they didn’t. He thought that Dean was gay or at least open to a sexual and or romantic relationship with a man. He thought that something was there when nothing was. He thought a lot of things. He didn’t need Dean to point them all out to him. He really just wanted to watch another documentary and-  
  
“I like you.” Dean’s freckles stood out from the blush on his face.  
  
Cas blinked a few times in rapid succession. “Wait, what?”  
  
Adding a shy smile to the mix, Dean shrugged. “I, uh, I’m kinda into you. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”  
  
Blowing out a puff of air, Cas cocked his head in confusion. “You like me?” He squinted his eyes further. “As in you like me like me?”  
  
Dean nodded. “Yeah, since we first met.” He brought a hand to the back of his neck and began to scratch it. “I wasn’t going to say anything; but, the way you acted today was like you were disgusted with me when Charlie mentioned sex and I went straight for you, you know, mentally or whatever. Don’t worry, Charlie already gave me a long lecture why I was stupid and shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable with my… uh, attentions.” He was staring at his shoes.  
  
Suddenly, Cas grabbed Dean’s jacket lapels and pulled him into his lips.  
  
Dean pushed away. “Woah, wait, how did we go from me apologizing for making you uncomfortable from a sexual desire to you kissing me.”  
  
Cas grit his teeth together and looked to the side. His face was heating in embarrassment. “I wasn’t disgusted with your sexual preference or any of your advances,” Cas couldn’t believe the change in his luck. He hadn’t been crazy; Dean had been pursuing him. His brain and heart were whirling faster than he would have thought possible. “I, the way you were talking, when Charlie came out of your bedroom, I thought…” He still didn’t quite understand.  
  
“Oh my god. No.” Dean shook his head frantically. “Charlie’s gay. She broke up with her girlfriend; they were engaged and stuff and she needed a change of pace; so, she came back.” Dean’s face was caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief, “We are just friends.”  
  
“Just friends,” Cas echoed.  
  
Dean nodded. The silence beyond it drew out a little longer than strictly necessary.  
  
“So, are we ‘just friends’?”  
  
Swallowing visibly, Dean licked his lips. “If you want to be; but, honestly, I really want to try that kiss again.”  
  
With a grin, Cas obliged to the later. He pulled Dean into him and ran a hair through Dean’s hair. His beard rubbed at Cas’ face; but, he was okay with that; it was new and exciting and so… Dean. He dragged Dean into his living room and tried to close the front door with his foot.  
  
Dean’s hand shot out to keep it from closing. He tugged away from the kiss. “One moment.” He extracted himself from Cas and grabbed two bags that were next to the wall next to Cas’ door.  
  
Despite the paused kiss, Cas was overjoyed. His head was fluffy and his heart was rapid. Dean’s face was split into an eager grin, too. His green eyes so filled with mirth that Cas thought that he couldn’t dare try to match its intensity. Turning his gaze to the bags, Cas’ eyebrows pull together. “What’s that?”  
  
Holding them up, Dean gave a half-smile. “Plan B.”  
  
“And what was Plan B?” Cas used two fingers to tug at the lip of one of the bags hoping to see inside.  
  
Dean simply tugged them further from Cas’ reach. “Charlie found a recipe and I was going to make it for you.” Dean shifted his stance to a more self-assured one, swagger entering his gait and voice. “Obviously, I don’t need to do that now.”  
  
Stepping into Dean’s space, Cas brought a hand up to Dean’s chest. He reveled a moment in the fact that he could touch Dean like this, this the way that he’d wanted to for so long. “Stay for dinner.”  
  
Pecking a kiss onto Cas’ lips, Dean nodded. “Okay.” Dean turned and found the kitchen. He dumped the bags on the island and began to unpack.  
  
“So, what are we having?” Cas stood close enough to Dean’s side that their shoulders brushed and they both turned pink at the proximity. Cas liked it.  
  
Dean pulled a paper from the bag and laid it in front of Cas on the linoleum counter. “Salmon with Lemon and Rosemary.” He tapped it with one of his fingers for emphasis. “Sounds good, yeah?”  
  
Agreeing, Cas smiled at Dean and Dean smiled back.  
  
They danced around each other in perfect sync in the kitchen making dinner, ate together and never ran out of things to talk about, and then Dean spent the night.  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
None of the grandchildren tried to say that the pie wasn’t the reason for Dean and Cas getting together this time; so, Grandma Mary stood and waved. She picked up her tray and threw a smirk at Bobby as she walked out the glass doors.  
  
Moose shook her head. “Wow, Grandma did get Uncle Cas and Uncle Dean together.” She giggled. “And Aunt Charlie sort of made dinner.”  
  
The whole gaggle of grandkids giggled at that. They all knew that Charlie did not cook and was not allowed to cook.  
  
Mary piped up next to Moose, “So, when Uncle Zach sells lemons, Aunt Charlie makes dinner?”  
  
John shook his head then corrected her, “Sort of makes dinner.”  
  
Bobby nodded along. “Yeah, I guess you could say that; but, you have to understand. Your granddaddy and I are why Dean even moved back and took over the repair shop in the first place.”  
  
“You can’t take credit for that; Granddaddy got hurt.” Ginger pointed out.  
  
Laughing, Bobby shook his head, thinking back to what had really happened. He’d have to take a detour in the story for a moment; but, he was pretty sure that none of the grandkids would mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHMAHGAWD THEY"RE FINALLY TOGETHER WHAT WERE THE ODDS????
> 
> me: [cockleddean.tumblr.com](cockleddean.tumblr.com)


	5. ...With A Cherry On Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas never would have met if Dean hadn't come back to work at the repair shop. Bobby and John had quite a hand at it.
> 
> Or the one in which Mary's matchmaking only works after her husband makes sure both of her prized possessions are in the same county.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNEDIT'D. UNPROOF'D. UNBETA'D. Story is mine; characters are not.

When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons… Chapter 5 | …With A Cherry On Top

NOW  
  
\---  
  
As always, Mary had to hug and say good bye to each of her grandchildren separately. Making an effort to run her fingers lightly through little Mary’s hair, the same way that the elder did to her own. She also gave Little Dean a long hug; Bobby wouldn’t have noticed it, if he had been expecting it. It was like he was transported back 25 years and Mary had just dropped Dean off at Bobby’s shop for a summer day.  
  
The sentimental moment passed  
  
Waiting until Mary had hopped into her car and the reverse lights flickered on, Bobby charged into the next part of the story, “Your grandmother thinks that’s how they got their act together; but, she’s missing the biggest part, my part.”  
  
Cassandra yawned and scooted closer to her brother. She was the one of the children lacking the red hair or Dean’s shock of freckles. He bright green eyes looked tired; but, interested, really getting into the story that would inevitably explain why her brother, Little Dean, looked so much like Uncle Dean. “But, it sounds like Grandma’s pies and the bake sale did a pretty good job of getting Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas together.” She rubbed one of her eyes with her little fist, much like Dean had once upon a time.  
  
Huffing in a faux-indignant way, Bobby rolled his eyes before leaning forward with a grin. He whispered to the herd of them, “Well, Dean had to get back here first, right?”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
Bobby twisted the T-bar to remove the lugnuts. It was one of the final steps to finishing the car. After that, they’d have to get it painted; but, since neither John nor Bobby had the means to do it themselves, it meant that they’d have to find someone else to finish her off.  
  
Sipping a cold can of cherry coke from the red, mini soda machine that Bobby kept in the front, John was sprawled on a folding, beach-chair version of a chaise lounge. “Do you think that Dean will come back soon?” He scratched a hand through his 5-day scruff.  
  
“I think that you’ll have to do more than just hope he comes back.” He grunted when he had to twist the bar particularly harder than the moment before. “You may have to,” Bobby inserted an overdramatic gasp, “talk to him.”  
  
Shoulders rolled in, John shook his head. “Whenever I call him up, I always get the damn answering machine or, if I’m lucky, a quick hello and good bye.” He played with the tab on the can. “He doesn’t even call Mary anymore.”  
  
Bobby wiped sweat from his brow. “Well, that’s a crying shame; that boy and his mother were really close.” He put all of the lugnuts in a plastic Ziploc baggie, planning to clean them up and repair or replace the bed ones. He pushed himself up off the ground. He sat himself on an overturned bucket and fiddled with the baggie. “You know that he thinks you’re disappointed.”  
  
“I am disappointed.” The pop top on the can snapped off, startling them both. “Not over what he thinks I’m disappointed over; but, I am disappointed in him.”  
  
Jerking the baggie up then clapping his hands around it, Bobby sniffed. “You ever talk to him about it. I know that neither of you are the talking type; but, extreme cases call for extreme measures.” He pulled a red rag from the battered up table and wiped his hands; the baggie had become murky with grease so he wiped over it, as well. He stood up and accidentally knocked the bucket over and into the table. “Dammit.” He went and reached for the bucket, setting it upright.  
  
“Come get your lunch.” The side door to the shop opened and the bell tinkled. “Bobby, you got a fax about a furniture order.” Mary set the bags from Ellen’s diner on the counter and glared at them through the open garage door. She picked up the paper from the fax machine and waved it back and forth to hurry him up.  
  
Bobby and Mary shared a shop; she and Bobby’s wife had been good friends and had started them all going to antique shows and flea markets. While they did that, John and Bobby ended up amusing themselves either by laughing at weird, abstract art or ogling the old cars at auctions.  
  
Shit happened and now they had settled into the din of Bobby and Mary sharing a store front. She sold the creepy dolls and fine china; and, Bobby sold the furniture and restored antique or older cars. John still worked at the Lawrence Repair Shop up the street; it had been in the Winchester family for ages.  
  
Smiling, Bobby took the fax from Mary and kissed her on the cheek. “What would I do without you?”  
  
She turned and pushed her hip into the counter. “You’d probably stick your head in a car and completely forget about making money.” She grinned back.  
  
When Bobby’s wife had died, he worked with John at the garage for a while doing just that, sticking his head in a car and forgetting about the world. It took a while to bring him back to the antique shop; but there he was. He felt like he was being true to his wife, closer to her through the thing that she loved.  
  
He put the fax on his desk and snatched up his reading glasses. He was a line into the urgent furniture order for a place down the road when a crash sounded outdoors. Mary dropped the styrofoam container on the counter, some of the juice escaped and got on the papers. She rushed out and Bobby was quick to follow.  
  
The bucket that Bobby had turned upright was rolling in a wide arch and John was on the ground. One of the rolling toolboxes had fallen over and was sitting on a few inches from his leg.  
  
“Oh my goodness, honey, are you alright?” Mary rushed over, he sunflower printed dress fluttered around her like a field of wheat bowing to the sun.  
  
John grunted and pushed up onto his elbows. “I’m fine,” he growled.  
  
Moving to John’s left, Bobby reached down to hoist him up. Between he and Mary, they had John standing again.  
  
He shooed them; but, they didn’t go very far. “I told you I’m fine.” But, when he went to take a step he almost crumbled to the ground.  
  
Bobby’s reflexes had him hoisting his friend back up. “Okay, we’re taking you to the urgent care.”  
  
Bringing her hands up to her mouth, Mary’s eyebrows tilted in worry. “Oh, I’ll get my purse.”  
  
“You’ve got an appraiser coming in within the hour. You stay here. I got this.” Bobby helped John to the car.  
  
It was a true show of Mary’s trust because she waved them off and went back in knowing full well that Bobby was right. She had argued tooth and nail to get this meeting with the internationally ranked appraiser 5 months back almost and she couldn’t go through all of that again.  
  
\---  
  
They were still in Urgent Care’s waiting room when Mary called. The appraiser was running late and she needed to vent so she called Bobby for that specific reason.  
  
“I can’t believe the nerve of these people. Just because you wear a fancy suit doesn’t mean that you can walk all over other people. I mean, I’m a person too.” She huffed directly into the phone. Bobby could picture her fuming and running her hands furiously through her hair, mussing up her perfect, sloppy bun. Everyone thought that John Winchester was the one to be careful of; but, really, it was Mary that people had to look out for. She was a little spitfire, raised in a gun-wielding, duck-hunting, Christian-collective household. “These bigots need someone to make a piece out of them.”  
  
Bobby shook his head, half in amusement and half in pity for the appraiser. “Remember that he controls what you can sell those pieces for so you should be nice to him. Give him some of your Cherry pie or something.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll give him some Cherry pie. I’ll shove it up his ass.” She slapped something against a table.  
  
A blonde nurse approached them and smiled sweetly. “Hello, I can take you at the desk now. We’ll put in your information then take you out back.” She had long curly hair that reminded Bobby of the she-demon he was talking to on the phone.  
  
He nodded to the nurse before speaking quickly to the phone. “I have to go; they’re ready to take John at the desk.”  
  
There was a pause on the other end. “Take good care of him, will you?” He voice had melted in the pause, the rage was replaced by concern. Bobby realized that half of her anger must have been stress.  
  
“I got things covered. Don’t you worry over us.”  
  
Static raced through the phone to Bobby’s ear; she must have settled it into her shoulder. “Okay; it’s just, he’s in the middle of doing the repairs on Mr. Azazel’s car and there’s a date that it all has to done by and-”  
  
John, having gotten fed up with Bobby’s phone call was attempting to stand on his own. Once he was upright on one foot, he readied to hop over to the counter. Bobby reached an arm up and yanked the man back down into his chair. There was no way that John Winchester would manage to hop to the counter without incident. John glared at Bobby.  
  
“Did you not hear me? I got this covered. You go give that appraiser hell.”  
  
That seemed to get Mary’s mind off of John. She hung up muttering about how the appraiser had better have an ass made of gold. Bobby pocket his phone then turned to John. “You really thought you were going to hop over there?”  
  
John shrugged.  
  
“What kind of stupid are you?” Bobby stood and helped John to the counter.  
  
\---  
  
The doctor thought it was a sprained knee. John was supposed to stay off of it for the remainder of the weekend, icing and heating it on and off. He would be back to work by Monday.  
  
Bobby was relieved by the news. It meant that he had something positive to tell Mary. She’d need it if the meeting with appraiser was going to go the way he thought it would.  
  
On the table, John was dressed in a hospital gown. They’d taken x-rays and they’d poked and prodded. The guy looked just about exhausted. “This is shit.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Bobby shuffled his shoulders up and down. “It ain’t that bad. Suck it up; you’re tougher than a sprained knee.” Bobby reached over and slapped John’s good knee.  
  
John glared. “I’m tougher than anything.” He leaned back against the wall and pouted, pushing out his bottom lip and crossing his arms over his chest. “I have steel balls.”  
  
“The hell you do.” Bobby flipped through one of the magazines from the table; most of them were oriented toward a female audience. He was reading an article about the perfect manicure.  
  
When the door opened, Bobby had already begun his next sentence, eyes trained on the magazine. “Your balls are big and fleshy.”  
  
The poor nurse stood in the door for a long minute before taking wary steps forward. “Am I interrupting?”  
  
Bobby glanced up to John, who was staring daggers at him. Bobby shrugged. “I was just getting to the good part.”  
  
The nurse looked about as scandalized as John did. That made Bobby smirk.  
  
Soon into the following awkward silence, the doctor rounded the corner and stood in the center of the room with his hands in his pockets. “Well, bad news is that you’ve sprained your knee; good news is that you get some awesome painkillers.” He handed over a prescription. “Misters Winchester, you can get dressed and head on out.” He smiled and pivoted on his toe to leave. The nurse hurried to follow, closing the door behind her.  
  
“Did he just say ‘misters’ as in-?” John used his pointer finger to motion to himself and Bobby. The corners of his mouth pulled down in a grimace. “That’s just gross.”  
  
Bobby stood. “What you just said is why you and Dean are having trouble, you know.” Bobby picked up John’s jeans from the counter. If John had his way, they would have been a crumpled mess on the floor; but, Bobby had taken it upon himself to fold them.  
  
Struggling with putting his second leg in the second pant, John grumbled. “You know that I don’t mean that I don’t like gay people; it’s just us. We’re… ugh, it’s just gross for us.” John glared at Bobby through his lashed.  
  
“Maybe you should tell that to your oldest son.” Bobby ended up kneeling in front of his friend and threading his outstretched leg into the jean tube. “Dean thinks you don’t approve of him.”  
  
John gingerly slid so that he was balanced on his good leg. He began to button his pants and keened a little to one side; Bobby immediately threw out a hand to steady his friend. John nodded his gratitude. He quickly buttoned and zipped his fly. “What isn’t there to approve of?”  
  
Surly as always, Bobby turned a deadpan expression to his friend. “See, where are all of these words when Dean is around?” He motioned for John to turn around so Bobby could undo the ties in the hospital gown.  
  
Shucking the gown, John left it in a heap on the ground. This time, Bobby didn’t make a move to straighten it; instead, he threw John shirt at him so it would hit him in the face and shoulder.  
  
“The boy never came out to me.” John’s voice almost cracked.  
  
It hung in the air for a while. Bobby knew that was the case. Dean hadn’t come out to anyone really; but, he had never tried too hard to hide it. He’d had some really – really – close male ‘friends’ in high school. He’d talked a bit too much about his friend Benny when he did manage to make conversation over the phone. His best friend was a lesbian.  
  
There was no secret there. Dean was either bi or curious, no question.  
  
Mary often went on about how all she needed was to find the right guy to talk about on the phone or introduce him to. Bobby wasn’t sure, though.  
  
If Dean was anything as stubborn as his mother, who was probably tearing an appraiser a new one, or his father, who was insisting of standing and waiting for something to happen while his knee was damaged, then Bobby highly doubted that Dean would take bait like that. He’d have to find it all on his own or it wouldn’t mean anything.  
  
“If it helps, he never came out to me or Mary either.” Bobby returned the magazine to the stack and righted the room except for John’s used hospital gown. “The boy doesn’t really talk about his feelings; much like someone else I know.” Bobby turned a narrowed glare at John.  
  
The knob on the door began to turn.  
  
“Oh come one,” John rolled his eyes, “How hard is it? Just out with it.”  
  
This time, the nurse’s face was priceless. She looked more concerned than betrayed, like she was more worried over how sterile the room was than whether or not these two men decided to do the do.  
  
John rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ. You’re timing is fucking impeccable.”  
  
Laughing, Bobby found it hilarious that the outburst did not help John’s case.  
  
The nurse handed over a pair of crutches to John and backed out of his way. John spent no time stalling; he sped from the room as fast as the crutches could take him.  
  
Smiling at the nurse, Bobby tipped his head to her. “Thank you Miss,” he read her nametag, “Moore.” He smirked and followed his friend out of the patient rooms.  
  
\---  
  
“This is a stupid idea.” Bobby didn’t like it. It was elaborate and far-fetched; in short, he didn’t think it would work. “You think you can pull one over like that on your wife?” Bobby gripped the steering wheel hard. He didn’t like lying, especially to Mary or, when she was alive, Karen.  
  
John sighed in the passenger seat and turned to glare out the window. “It’s not a huge lie. We’re just going to tell her that my knee is kinda messed up and I can’t work on cars for a bit.”  
  
Pinching his eyebrows together, Bobby glared at the road. “And what exactly do you plan to accomplish? A divorce?” He did not want to have to pick side if that were to pass.  
  
“You’re so dramatic. It’s a good reason to call Dean back into town.”  
  
Bobby looked over to see John staring out the window almost glassy-eyed.  
  
Blinking out of it, John continued, “It’d be nice to see him again.”  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
“Ooooooooh, I’m gonna tell Grandma on you.” Cassandra pointed one of her little fingers at Bobby. Cassandra acted a lot more like a ‘Charlie’ than a ‘Cas’. She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. “Lying is bad. Mama says so.”  
  
Bobby nodded. “You’re mama’s right; lying is bad.”  
  
“You know that’s right.” Benny stuck his head into the room and grinned.  
  
Bobbie, finally pulling away from John, ran over to her daddy and glued herself to his leg instead. John looked confused between relieved and lonely. Bobby figured that the two kids would figure it out one day. John agreed; but, continually wished that they had been given different names. Bobby simply thought that it was amusing; Bobbie and John were cute together – everything that Dean and Jo would have been in another life, or Dean and Benny for that matter.  
  
Ruffling his daughter’s hair, Benny walked over to his step-father-in-law or, as they preferred, dad. “Heya, chief.” He slapped a hand onto Bobby’s shoulder. “You got some metal that needs some shine?”  
  
“Yep.” He twisted in the chair and pointed to the back of the show room where a car door leaned against the wall. “She’s right o’er there.”  
  
Ginger, aka Dean and Cas’ oldest and only daughter who everyone forgot that her real name was Melissa, hopped up immediately. “Can I help?”  
  
“Of course.” Benny grinned at her. He rubbed his large hands over his daughter’s back where she was still wrapped around his leg. “Come on, Bear, you gotta hop off.”  
  
Basically, Bobbie melted to the floor and Benny stepped away from her with is little Ginger shadow. She kept talking to her daddy despite that she was laying on the cool tile of the showroom. “Grandpa is telling us about how Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas got together.”  
  
Benny hoisted the car door and Ginger collected the wires to that they wouldn’t drag or get caught. Bobby could tell that she liked to help her Dad around at the Lawrence repair shop. “Oh, really?” Benny asked. “Where is he?”  
  
“He’s at the part where he and Great Uncle John lied to Great Aunt Mary about Great Uncle John’s knee.”  
  
Bobby had forgotten that his audience was a bunch of tellers. “Shush, you.” He made an abortive gesture.  
  
Surprisingly, Benny only laughed at the information. “Everyone will know soon.” He shook his head and put the car door down. “Well, here’s the cherry on top; Dean was in a bit of a mess himself when he got that phone call...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR BACKSTORY?!? HA!
> 
> So, Benny and.... CLIFFHANGER!!!  
>  
> 
> [Are you as confused about the kids as I was earlier today? Look at this handy little family tree.](http://cockleddean.tumblr.com/post/129351977423/lovefromdean-i-confused-myself-with-my-own-au-so)  
> 


	6. ...Cherry Pop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny takes a turn at telling the story, but not without a few interjections by Bobby.
> 
> Dean and Benny are celebrating their businesses success while Mary and Bobby deal with John's knee.
> 
> [Chapter Includes some one-sided Denny (DeanBenny) - tags edited to reflect that]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNBETA'D. UNPROOF'D. UNEDIT'D. Story is mine; characters are not.

When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons… Chapter 6 | …Cherry Pop

NOW  
  
\---  
  
Benny pulled a chair up to take a seat next to Bobby. Once he was situated, Bobbi ran up and attached herself to his leg, rubbing her cheek into his jeans’ pants leg. “Daddy, what was Uncle Dean like?”  
  
Watching the girl with warmth spreading through his torso, Bobby looked over to see what John would do. In most situations, John would bound along after Bobbi and follow her lead. They’d get in trouble together and get out of trouble together. Just as Bobby had expected, John was sitting with a little pout on his face, no knowing what to do with himself.  
  
Sooner or later, those two would date, Bobby could see it now; but, he was hoping it would be when they were older and were ready for what it would entail, otherwise it would just blow up. With a tight family like they all had, everyone would be affected if those two blew up.  
  
Bouncing the knee not weighed down by an offspring, Benny hummed a bit. One could almost hear his accent in his hum, a bit of a drawl to it.  
  
Ginger sat close to Benny and looked up at him like he was some sort of car-god; he sort of was. Benny had come into the whole ‘family’ part of the picture because of cars and stuck there because of Jo. Bobby was grateful.  
  
“Well,” Bobby resituated himself in the chair but still couldn’t move his daughter-held foot, “it started when Dean and I went out for drinks…”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
Dean sat at the bar and waited for Benny. Their friendship had started off a little rocky, with Dean asking him out and Benny saying no. Actually, Dean was surprised that they were friends at all. The guy had worked at one of the local car shops. He and a girl named Bela would pimp any ride.  
  
After heading over for s possible job, Dean had found himself absolutely smitten, with both of them. Yeah, Dean had a weird way of going through life. He found himself sexually attracted to just about anything with smooth skin and a pulse. More than sex was off the table until he really got to know them.  
  
He spun on the stool before resting his elbows back on the bar. Bela had skipped town one day out of the blue. Benny said her past was probably finally catching up to her; Dean was sad that she was gone.  
  
Because Bela had left, though, Benny needed someone to help him with the place. That person was Dean. They worked well together. Dean would lower the suspension and Benny had an auto paint tunnel so he’d do up the sides with all kinds of awesome art. They were celebrating 6months of working together; well, they would be once Benny showed up.  
  
“Sorry, chief,” Benny shucked off his denim jacket and slung it onto the next stool over. “I got into a rhythm with this last piece.”  
  
Dean could smell the paint fumes that clung to Benny. “Yeah, I can tell. Her perfume is all over you.” He waved a hand in front of his nose to prove that he was disgusted. Paint fumes gave him a headache. He had a bottle of Aleve behind the desk at their shop and he often just didn’t go to work on the days that Benny had large paint jobs to complete.  
  
Today’s paint job was a full body outer space thing. It required multiple layers and multiple breathing and drying sessions. Dean spent most of the day in sweat pants watching Doctor Sexy MD on Netflix.  
  
“But, she’s looking purrty now.” Benny grinned and took his seat next to Dean. His face became somber. “Look, I don’t want to be too forward, but,” He looked up at Dean and waited for the go-ahead to continue.  
  
Looking at those blue eyes always did something to Dean. He really liked Benny. He was a great guy. He took amazing care of his car and he was really passionate about his work. If that night went well, he was going to see if Benny wanted to try out whatever it was they almost had already. In the mean time, Dean waved down the waiter and nodded for Benny to continue.  
  
Licking his lips, Benny looked down at were his fingers touched the cool bar. “But, uh, let’s not make this into a date or something that it isn’t.”  
  
Dean sucked in a big breath. Was he really that easy to see through? He bit his bottom lip and let all of his other ideas tuck themselves back into the box he kept for daydreams and showers. When he let out his breath he was a little down-trodden, but he was also glad that Benny decided to clear the air early. Mustering up as much of his bravado as he could salvage, Dean huffed shortly, “What makes you think I’d be stupid enough to do that?”  
  
As if he could still see through Dean, Benny raised an eyebrow. “I know you, Dean.”  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
“Wait, daddy liked you?” Ginger’s eyes were big and her nose was scrunched up a bit, like a rabbit when it was given a carrot; actually, a lot like a Cas that was disgusted by the dishes at a potluck dinner. He face was turning pink.  
  
Chuckling, Bobby thought it was quite adorable. The kid definitely had a kid-crush on her Uncle Benny. One of those ones that kids get when they’re just getting into boys but boys are still gross. Bobby thought the girl couldn’t have picked a better person to crush on.  
  
When Bobby and Ellen had walked Jo down the aisle to meet Benny, there were tears in both of their eyes. They both thought then that Benny was worth it and still did. The man had a good head on his shoulders.  
  
Benny gave a pitying smile. “He did. Don’t worry though, he grew out of it.” He winked at her.  
  
Bobby almost laughed out loud. If that wasn’t Benny telling Ginger that she was going to grow out of her crush then Benny wasn’t sure what was.  
  
She blushed though and turned away.  
  
“Get back to the story.” Little Dean whined a little. He was probably tired.  
  
His twin, Cassandra, bobbed her head in a nod, too. She plopped her hands into her lap, over he blue flower print sundress. “Yeah, what happened next?”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
Dean was able to recover from Benny’s proactive block; he took interest in the bartender. The guy was cute enough and Benny seemed to agree with Dean on that. They turned it into a bit of a game, see who could get the guy more flustered.  
  
First, Dean asked for two shots and downed them both, working his lips over the edge of the shot glass. Then, Benny put dome extra lull in his drawl when he ordered a beer. He asked the bartender a question to keep him near them when he took his swig, making an ‘o’ with his pretty Louisiana lips.  
  
It went on like that for a bit interspersed with some idle conversation. How Benny’s sister was doing, how Dean’s friend Charlie was doing, which cars they thought were actually owned by drug dealers. It was one of the nights that conversation came as easy as the alcohol.  
  
The only thing that was at all upsetting about their evening was the rowdy kids at the pool table in the corner. On any other night, Dean would have let them be, but they were annoying the bartender and the game he and Benny was playing necessitated that he help the bartender out.  
  
When the bartender dropped off his nachos, he winked at him and nodded over at the kids. “I got this.” Dean lifted his hands and messed with his hair a bit. He stood from the table and elbowed Benny.  
  
They hustled pool for a bit. The two of them made a good team. Dean was about to renege on his promise not to ask Benny home with him; he’d had just enough beer and just enough luck thus far to make him feel adventurous.  
  
With another few hundred dollars to their names, they retook their seats at the bar. Opening his mouth to speak, Dean turned to Benny, but-  
  
“You know I was married?” Benny was playing with the neck on his bottle.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Dean hadn’t known that. He’d known that Benny had been in a very serious relationship once upon a time; but, he didn’t know… he didn’t know that. His adventurous spirit retreated to the same box at the back of his head. “Oh.”  
  
Nodding, Benny adjusted his cap. “Her names was Andrea. She had a boat.” He was looking at the wall of bottles behind the bar.  
  
Following his gaze, Dean took in the labels, most of them blurred though. Dean didn’t usually buy something mixed, but he could probably go for one. Hell, he could drink anything, everything. When he got drunk enough, he knew he had a drinking problem.  
  
He ordered another beer and chugged half of it. “Andrea, huh? She hot?”  
  
“Very.” He took another sip.  
  
Briefly, Dean wondered how many behind Benny was.  
  
“We were together for a long time man. High school sweethearts then married for years.” He huffed. “She was a real beauty and she could cook like you wouldn’t believe.”  
  
Nodding along, Dean made the connection. “That’s why you left Louisiana. That’s why you moved here.” It wasn’t really a question.  
  
Benny nodded.  
  
As if it had sensed the most inopportune moment, Dean’s cell phone rang. He ignored it at first. It was almost one in the morning.  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
“It couldn’t have been that late.” Bobby mused. “Well, I guess it was wasn’t it. It was a good long drive out and good drive back.” He nodded to himself before continuing.  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
Bobby couldn’t believe that he was going along with the plan. John had hatched the dumbest plan, tell his wife that his leg was worse than it was and get Dean to come back to work on the cars at the shop. Bobby understood that desperate times called for desperate measures, but this was the epitome of dumbassery.  
  
They had to stop at a Walgreens for a leg wrap; John insisted on a cherry pop, too. John opened his can before they even left the store; somehow, he managed to keep it in the can despite using his crutches. They returned to the car and John put on the wrap while Bobby explained to him just how bad of an idea the whole this was.  
  
“You know she’s going to shoot us both when she finds out.”  
  
“She won’t find out.”  
  
“You decided to marry one of the smartest women in the county and you think she isn’t going to find out that you’re fine?” Bobby growled at the steering wheel. “I just don’t want to have to pick a legal guardian in the divorce.”  
  
John muttered, “You’d probably pick Mary.”  
  
“You’re darn right I’d pick Mary. She’s the one that would win everything in the divorce. She’d probably be able to do it without a damn lawyer, too!”  
  
“Do you want to help me get Dean back into town?” John was overtired, so was Bobby. They really weren’t in the position to make these types of decisions. “We’re like two roads away. I’m going through with this.”  
  
Bobby knew that when a Winchester made up their mind, there was no way to change it. “Maybe I should actually break your leg.”  
  
Barking a laugh, John, having finished the wrapping his leg, sat back in his seat. “You want to drive me all the way back over to the medical center?” He raised a challenging eyebrow.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Bobby responded gruff, “No, do you understand how much gas this cost me already?”  
  
“Then I guess you’ll have to trust my acting skills.” John clapped a hand onto Bobby’s closest shoulder just as they were rolling up to the house.  
  
“It’ll be easy, just act like you’re drunk for now.” Responding to John’s confused look, Bobby explained, “If you’re leg was broken, they would’ve given you a heavy painkiller.”  
  
John nodded. “Well, here goes.”  
  
\---  
  
Benny pointed to Dean’s pocket. “Answer that will you? My sob story ain’t going anywhere, brother.”  
  
Digging out his phone, Dean glared at the phone number. It was his parents’ number. His face pinched when he looked at the screen, partly because it was bright and they were in a dark, seedy bar and partly because he wasn’t in the mood. He ignored it again.  
  
It wasn’t until the call stopped and the phone told him that he had a “missed phone call 1:32am” that he realized it was probably an emergency. When they rang him again, he answered it and winced in preparation. “Hello?”  
  
“Dean?” His mother. She sounded upset; Dean hated it when his mother was upset.  
  
He swallowed. “Yeah?” He had to plug his other ear with a finger to concentrate on her voice over the chatter and music in the bar.  
  
“Are you out drinking again?”  
  
The again was what struck Dean the hardest. Yeah, he was. It was what he did most nights. Sometimes he found himself at the strip club up the street, employed some of the prettiest ladies he’d see; sometimes, when his day was particularly long and needed to be forgotten, he’d find himself at the gay club around the corner, dancing and drinking the mixed drinks that people would buy for him. Drinking was usually in the equation. “Maybe.” He swayed a bit. That made him fess up. “Yeah, yeah I am.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
He could hear the hurt or concern or disappointment or the ‘mom’ in his mother’s voice. He really didn’t like it. It wasn’t the sort of sound that he wanted to hear on a celebratory evening with his hot-crush-not-date-co-owner. “Well, I just got off the phone with Sam.”  
  
That was a lie; she’d spent a good bit of time calling Dean. She must’ve called Sam before that.  
  
“And I figured I should call you. You’re father hurt his leg.”  
  
That did the trick of sobering Dean up. “What?” As much as Dean had avoided his father, he didn’t want to hear that the man got hurt. “What happened?”  
  
“There was an accident at the shop; there was a bucket and the toolbox fell over.” She trailed off.  
  
Dean shuddered. He and Benny had a few craftsmen toolboxes at the shop; if one of them fell, if one of them hit one of them on the way down. Dean couldn’t believe it was just his dad’s leg. “Is he at the hospital?”  
  
“No, they gave him a soft cast because his knee still needs to be mobile despite the break. He’s home but pretty loopy.” She must’ve turned away from the phone for a moment, because there was static as if her hair hit the microphone or something. “I’m worried.” It was must softer than before.  
  
Pressing his lips together, Dean took a long moment before he responded. “Why?”  
  
“He’s in the middle of a big project. It’s due by the end of the week. He won’t be able to finish it like this.” She sounded so small.  
  
Dean tucked the phone to his shoulder and rooted into his pocket for money. He slapped a few twenties on the bar hoping he’d kept an accurate count. He motioned for Benny to do the same; to his credit, Benny did. “I’m sure they’ll understand; I mean, he broke his leg. It’s not like some city mechanic shop with a bunch of guys and fill-ins.” Dean grabbed his coat and pushed at Benny’s shoulder to get him to the door.  
  
“It’s Mr. Azazel.” Her voice was a whisper.  
  
While holding the door open for a stumbling Benny, Dean’s blood froze. “As in…” He didn’t want to bring up all of the stuff the guy had done. He was some sort of loan shark. He’d give people what they wanted then collect years later. His mother had once made a deal with him and was one of the lucky ones who’d been able to pay him back in time.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“What are you going to do?” Dean checked his watch and closed one eye so he could focus on the numbers in the low glow of the single street lamp. Yeah, he wasn’t ready to drive yet. He opened the back seat and pushed Benny inside. They’d come in separate cars, but Dean would rather wait out the’r sobriety together.  
  
“I’m calling you.”  
  
Yeah, okay, Dean got his sass from his mother. “Okay, what am I supposed to do?” He climbed into the back seat with Benny and pulled the blanket out of from under the bench.  
  
“Well, I was hoping, if you could, would you come back and do the job for him? You’re a great mechanic, Dean. I’m sure you could do the work.” Dean heard her swallow.  
  
Almost in resignation, Dean nodded then realized that she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, okay. Let me sleep this off and I’ll call you again sometime tomorrow.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean was about to hang up.  
  
“And Dean? Stay safe okay?” Her voice took him back to when he was little and she was sending him to school with his star wars lunch kit filled with teddygrams and a pb&j.  
  
Dean closed his eyes and sighed, happily, at the nostalgia. “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
With that they both hung up. Dean let the phone and his hand drop to the seat next to him. He was about to ask if Benny wanted to continue his story, but a loud snore stopped that idea cold.  
  
He chuckled to himself and set an alarm on his phone for two hours so he could drive them home. They’d have to come back for Benny’s care later; that would be okay. He wrapped them bother in the red plaid blanket and snuggled closer to be warm.  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
“You know,” Bobby smiled to himself, “Mary was over the moon when Dean had told her that he was going to have to call her back the next day.” He laughed. “It was like we brought Christmas early.”  
  
Benny nodded. “The next day he took off for here.”


	7. ...Cherry Chapstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobbi asks her Dad for one more story; Benny obliges.
> 
> Dean has been away from home for a long time; things haven't changed that much since he left, and that scares him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNEDIT'D. UNPROOF'D. UNBETA'D. Story is mine; characters are not.

When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons… Chapter 7 | …Cherry Chapstick

NOW  
  
\---  
  
Confident that her dad wasn’t going anywhere soon, Bobbi let go and laid back on the tile of the show floor, her legs were still wrapped around Benny’s ankle. “Daddy, how did you end up moving here? I mean, Uncle Dean had to move, but you didn’t have to.”  
  
Benny checked his watch to ensure that he wasn’t going to be late for something. “Alright. One more story then I have to head out.”  
  
Clearly upset, Bobbi scrambled back up to hug her Daddy’s leg.  
  
Melissa played with a piece of her ginger hair, her nickname-sake. “Alright, but can I go with you and help with the door?” She gestured to the door with one hand.  
  
Sending Bobby a sideways look, he slid his eyes over all of the kidjits before landing back on Ginger. “I’m afraid that you’re Great-Uncle Bobby is supposed to watch you all for now.” He reached over and ruffled her flaming mane of hair.  
  
When she grumbled, John smirked from the center of the mosh. He teased her in a voice mimicking their father’s, Dean’s. “I’m sure you’ll get to work on one of the cars soon, Lugnut.” He laughed and she hissed.  
  
Benny clapped his hands. “Attention here or I’ll head out early.”  
  
Suddenly, all eyes were on Benny.  
  
“So, Dean had to come back to help out around here…”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
Dean carried the last box from his car into the back room of the shop. He could tell it hadn’t been slept in for a while. He would have to go to the store and buy the full works for clean-up. He’d have to scrub and wood-seal the floors. He’d have to remove the settled layer of dust. Probably, move the furniture around a little until it felt like home, again. Only then would he remove the plastic cover over the mattress.  
  
He sunk his hands into his hips once the box was placed on top of the other three. He didn’t have that much stuff, a few plates and bowls, fewer silverware. He shrugged. He’d been getting away with the elusive ‘bachelor life’ for a while.  
  
Looking over the boxes, he sighed. He’d drained all of his alcohol and put the bottles in the neighbor’s recycle. Part of him wanted to sober up and get over this all and part of him realized that the Impala didn’t need the extra tail weight. Admittedly, it was probably more on the authority of the latter that he had acted.  
  
A knock sounded from the door. He whirled around to see a figure standing behind the blinds covering the store front window. Swallowing, he moved to it and opened the door.  
  
Standing in a smart suit and a sleazy smile, Mr. Azazel dug his hands into his pockets. At college, Dean had taken forever to settle on a minor; but, eventually, it had settled at psychology. Mr. Azazel’s easy stance was a dominating stance.  
  
Despite the urge to cross his arms across himself in defense, Dean remained loose-jointed. “Mr. Azazel, how can I help you?” He didn’t move to the side to let Mr. Azazel into the building, his new home.  
  
“I was just coming around for an update on my car. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around here, Dean.” His grin turned lewd for a moment before fading back to its usual unsettling tone. “You look just like your mother did at that age.”  
  
Swallowing, Dean blinked and schooled his features to show no emotion; it was something he had to learn growing up around a mother that knew everything and a father that disapproved. But, it didn’t stop Dean’s brain from wondering if he was close to the age his mother had been when she made the deal. “I’m sorry to tell you, but I don’t know how your car is right now. I just got in town and my father has taken a rough hit.” In his head he added that it was probably a bigger hit to his bravado than anything else. “It will be ready by the end of the week, though; I can assure you.”  
  
Mr. Azazel clapped a hand on his shoulder. He leaned forward to whisper with what felt like cold breath on Dean’s ear. “You’re right; it will be.” His eyes flicked to Dean’s as he pulled back; the sun hit them just right so they appeared an eerie yellow color for a split second. “I’ll see you at the end of the week, Dean.” He turned and walked away.  
  
On the other side of the parking lot, a white car with two other men waited for him. When he got into the back seat, it burned rubber into the small parking lot before speeding away down the empty highway.  
  
Turning back into the garage’s office, Dean let out the breath he had been holding and took a moment to analyze what complete and utter shit he had walked into, then he dashed to the bathroom to wash his face and ear and shoulder and anywhere else where Mr. Azazel may have rubbed off.  
  
\---  
  
He headed over to his parent’s house next. It was only logical to go see them. He parked behind Sam’s black plastic monstrosity of a vehicle and stared at his hands of the steering wheel for a bit. He looked over at the house and tried not to think of all the things that he’d left behind.  
  
Once upon a time, he’d left behind a girl and a prom night to cross country. Once upon a time, he’d left behind his brother and his mother to try and find himself. Once upon a time, he’d left behind his father to try and cure himself of the disease that his father didn’t approve of.  
  
Now, he was back. He wasn’t ‘cured’ and he hadn’t ‘found himself’. Instead, he’d managed to waste a bunch of gas and not get very far; he ended up right back at the beginning. He sighed and pushed his door open.  
  
“Dean?” Jo and Ellen had come up too. They’d parked a ways back on the street because it was the next available parking space. “Hey, man.” She strode up to him and wrapped her arms around his next in a tight, welcoming hug. “It’s been a long time.”  
  
Giving up on his rigid stance, he melted into her hug. “Yeah, it has.” He peeked at Ellen where his chin was tucked over Jo’s shoulder.  
  
Ellen nodded at him. “Good on you getting back here, boy.” She offered a tough smile; she never offered any other kind in Dean’s experience.  
  
When Jo pulled away, she punched his arm, hard. Dean winced and held his elbow. She glowered. “That’s for ignoring my emails.” She turned and strode to the house, just as stubbornly casual as Dean’ remembered.  
  
He chuckled a bit and chose to slide into step next Ellen. “I read them all; I just never responded.”  
  
\---  
  
Dean stood in the entryway for much longer than one might expect. The house looked a lot different on the inside, like pinterest had exploded but with car parts and guns instead of flowers and ribbons. It was nice, actually. He looked in at the living room; it was much more formal than when he was growing up, a few more antique pieces than before, too.  
  
He could hear all of the voices coming from the end of the hallway, his parent’s room. He wasn’t ready to join in or fight his way down the narrow hallway yet, so he waited in the entryway and attempted to mentally prepare himself, pacing.  
  
It was on his fourth turn around the room that he noticed his mother in the mirror next to the door. He turned around to look at her. She was standing in the doorway to the downstairs hallway and stairs. Her t-shirt was crumpled and her jeans were speckled with paint. She was just as pretty as he remembered her.  
  
She crossed the room and pulled him into a hug. His hands automatically came up to press into her back. He felt impossible small despite that he was over six foot and almost a head taller than her. She whispered into his ear, “It’s good to see you, sweetie.”  
  
Tamping down on the tear behind his eyes, Dean ignored the tickle in his nose and pressed his lips together in a firm line. Eventually, he dropped his face into her shoulder and pressed his eyes into her body in an effort to hide his wet eyes. When the lump in his throat finally subsided, he turned his head and rested his ear on her shoulder instead. He whispered back, “Hey, mama.”  
  
It was quiet and small and they didn’t say much. When she pulled away, she didn’t punch him like Jo; instead, she brought her hands to his face and tilted it and turned it looking him over. “You look so much like your father.” She smiled, it was when the light hit her eyes in a way that revealed her own unshed tears.  
  
“Mary?” His father’s voice cut through the muted chatter and conversation filtering down the hallway.  
  
Mary called back, “Coming,” before starting down the hallway. The floors creaked under her socked feet. Dean briefly wondered how he had missed her coming out to greet him.  
  
On autopilot, Dean followed, like a tyke at the grocery store follows their parent dutifully up and down the aisles. The floor also squeaked under his feet, but he made more sound than his mother since he was heavier and still wearing his heavy boots.  
  
The hall was dark, there was no bulb in the light fixture and Dean mentally tacked it onto his to-do list, right under commandeering a hazmat suit before cleaning his room at the garage.  
  
Mary squeezed down along the wall, past everyone and stepped into John’s room.  
  
“He’s here? Already?” John’s voice was heavy in the air. It weighed on Dean’s shoulders. It was made heavier by the feeling over everyone’s eyes on him.  
  
In all honesty, it wasn’t that many people; it was, however, a tight fit. Bobby and Ellen were standing at the end of the hallway crowding the door frame. Jo was in the hall, too, leaning over to look into the bedroom. When Dean managed to scoot by, definitely burlier than the last time he had been there, he saw that Missouri was sitting in a yellow paisley print chair just inside the door. Sam was leaning against the far wall and stood up from it and stared just like everyone else, when Dean entered the room.  
  
All of the looks were really annoying, except maybe his mother’s.  
  
Dean tried to fit himself in by the door, but he didn’t get the chance.  
  
Reaching out an arm with a handful and a half of bangs jingling around her wrist, Missouri pushed him away from the door jamb. “Now, you go up there and see your daddy.”  
  
Huffing, Dean shook himself and took a deep breath before going up to the side of the bed.  
  
Other than the circles under his eyes, John looked fine. He also had a soft-bandage cast and three pillows propping it up, but he, himself, looked fine.  
  
“Son.” He nodded with dark, pinched eyebrows.  
  
Trying not to let his disappointment or attitude at the meaningless greeting, Dean nodded back, “Dad.”  
  
The silence that settled was odd. There was so many people in the space but no sound not even of breath, everyone was holding it.  
  
Dean hated silence, but he didn’t know what to say and knew he’d only make things worse by talking so he didn’t. Obviously, his father didn’t get the same idea.  
  
John turned his head to better look at him. “You still got all the soft edges.” His tone dipped in disapproval.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean tensed his jaw to keep from letting any more of his reaction loose. It was these kinds of comments that made it so hard to communicate with his father. He flicked his eyes back to his father. “Yeah, still go those.”  
  
“They work on a pretty little thing, yet?”  
  
Vibrating with the need to react, Dean clenched a fist at his side; he clenched it so hard that he was pretty certain that he’d have indents of his nails in his palm. He smirked and let his head loll to the side. “Oh, yeah, this one named Ivy. Pretty little thing, used to swing around-“  
  
“Stop that.”  
  
Immediately, Dean’s mouth snapped closed. The energy in the room changed. People were moving and breathing; everyone seemed to be looking for a place to look other than Dean or John. Sam was staring straight ahead at Mary’s bookshelf full of classics like Pollyanna and Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Missouri was admiring a picture on the wall.  
  
Mary stepped forward and drove a hard look at Dean. “Don’t start that.”  
  
From the pillow, John chuckled.  
  
“You either.” She swiveled to glare down at him, too. She was back lit by the sunlight from the window and it gave her a warm aura, almost halo.  
  
John silenced his amusement about as fast as Dean had. If there was one thing that Dean would never be able to forget, it would be his mother’s temper, never anger her.  
  
Trying to act fluidly, Sam stepped away from the wall and into the new awkward silence. “Hey, uh, how about we go look at the shed door while…” His sentence faded.  
  
Not really caring that Sam hadn’t completed his thought and instead opted for continuing the awkward silence, Dean nodded and turned away from his father. “Sure. Nothing a couple of Winchesters can’t fix.” He grinned and stepped out of the room in a hurry.  
  
Sam wasn’t far behind.  
  
\---  
  
There wasn’t much wrong with the door. They just had to replace the bottom hinge so that it could swing smoothly and into place without a huge hassle. Sam was holding the door up while Dean knelt on one knee in front of it, screws and screwdriver spread around.  
  
“Dude, none of these replacement hinges match the holes for the one I took off.” Dean threw the final one into the grass with a defeated huff. “Looks like we’re gonna have to go buy another one.” He had to squint through the sun when he looked up.  
  
Sam, who had been surprisingly quiet, nodded and slowly moved the door so that it could rest most of its weight on the doorjamb instead of the upper hinge. “I guess that’s about that then.”  
  
They trudged around the side of the house. Dean’s boots made more noise on the gravel than Sam’s tennis shoes. They piled into Dean’s Impala and headed off. Dean drove; it wasn’t like the hardware store moved since he left.  
  
“So, uh, you doing well?” Sam’s heavy conversation openers were awkward as ever.  
  
Dean turned and gave him a ‘Really?’ look before turning back to the road.  
  
“Seriously, I mean, you stopped talking to all of us, and then you drop everything and head back?” He shifted in the passenger seat. He didn’t fit as easily as when Dean had last had him there. “Didn’t you have a life? I mean, seven years is long enough to uproot and start over more than once.”  
  
Nodding, Dean licked his lips. “And I did.” He flicked his eyes in Sam’s direction and back. “I uprooted and started over more than once.”  
  
Silence settled for a short moment.  
  
“How did you get here so fast?”  
  
“I was only a few counties over.” He shrugged.  
  
“Only a few – Dean, you could’ve at least come to visit.” Sam turned his torso toward Dean and lifted is hands in exasperation.  
  
Dean pulled to the side of the road in front of Rufus’ shop. “And what says I didn’t, Sammy?” He didn’t let himself get mad or upset. Sam was emotional and dramatic enough for the both of them.  
  
Cocking his head a little to the side, Sam’s hair fell into his face. He had to move it out of his face and behind his ear before he looked taken aback. “Did you?” He sat back in his seat but how eager he was still shone through his tone. “Did you visit?”  
  
Thinking about telling Sam quickly turned into deciding not to tell Sam. Sam didn’t need to know about the time that he raced over to tell Mom and Dad about his new job at a car place, the first one since Dad’s. Sam didn’t need to know about the time that Dean was drunk and sad and broke the law to try and visit mom but ended up pulling over and sleeping it off. Sam didn’t need to know about the dozen times that he’d plucked up the courage to tell Dad off for being a homophobic sonova- before losing his nerve a few exits away on the interstate.  
  
Instead he sent Sam a look that, if they were closer, Sam might’ve been able to read, before stepping out of the car and stalking over to the curb.  
  
The look that Sam returned after exiting the car told Dean that Sam still understood it.  
  
\---  
  
“Hey, boy, haven’t seen you in a long time.” Rufus laughed a guttural thing while he rang up the hinge, screws, light bulb, and weed-eater replacement cord. Dean planned on getting more than just the hinge done up right by that evening. “You having your good times still?”  
  
Dean pulled his wallet out and handed over his bank card from the outside flap. Compared to most drifters, Dean had a considerable saving and healthy bank account. He made sure that he had emergency money and wouldn’t be without food. It was one of the few vows that he stuck to with a passion. “What do you mean?”  
  
Looking out of place in his nice jeans and knit pullover, Sam flicked at the eye-catcher goodies at the checkout counter. He played with an LED flashlight and turned all of the pocket- or purse-size bug spray to face the same way. He ended up throwing a pack of cherry chapstick onto the counter. He began to pull out his wallet, but Dean simply slid it over into his pile of stuff and Rufus rang it up as well.  
  
Typing into the register, Rufus stretched back and squinted at the little screen. He typed more then leaned into Dean while the receipt printed. “You know, them hooligans under the bleachers, the miniskirts, the untucked jerseys.” He leaned away and tore the receipt from the little printer. It took him two tries and Dean had to sign over a rip in the paper, but oh well. “We all knew what you were doing kid.”  
  
“What?” Dean’s face got hot. If Rufus knew, then who else knew? How long had they known?  
  
Rufus took the receipt and stabbed it onto a stack on the other side of the register. “We used to take bets on the whole thing. I think Bobby still owes me two-hundred dollars. At the same time, I don’t want to bring it up because I own your daddy some money, too.” He tucked everything into a perused grocery bag. It said Walmart on the side; it was definitely a county hardware store.  
  
Taking the bag, Dean stood stalk still. “You’re saying dad knew?” He figured that his mother had figured it out. Sam knew. But, his father had always seemed so disapproving, but he’d already known. Now it really didn’t make any sense. He turned and noticed that Sam looked just as taken aback by the information as Dean did. Thankfully, it wasn’t only Dean from who the knowledge had escaped.  
  
Scoffing, Rufus leaned a hand on the counter. “I’m saying we all knew kid.”  
  
That ignited something in Dean. He needed to talk to his dad, again; this time without all the extra eyes and ears, preferably.  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
“Daddy, you’re not even in this story.” Bobbi whined from her place at his knew.  
  
He rubbed her shoulder a little and shook his head. “Do I look like I’m done yet, sugar?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: [cockleddean.tumblr.com](cockleddean.tumblr.com)


	8. ...Cherry Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny continues his story.
> 
> Dean and John seem to be on the same page for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNEDIT'D. UNPROOF'D. UNBETA'D. Story is mine; characters are not.

When Uncle Zach Sells Lemons… Chapter 8 | …Cherry Pie  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
He needed to talk to his father. It didn’t make sense anymore.  
  
Sam tried to remind Dean that Stop signs weren’t Yield signs three different times before he realized that Dean was driving that way, not because he didn’t remember the streets or the stops, but because he was in a hurry to get home. Either that, or Sam had finally given up on Dean’s horrible driving.  
  
Dean rolled into the same spot as before. His brain, temporarily distracted, forced a question from his mouth. “Sammy, what exactly is that thing?” Dean stared at the thing in their parents’ driveway; it was shiny and had a softer shape than any car that Dean would deem worthy of praise.  
  
Already halfway out of the car, Sam settled back in but unfolded his legs onto the devil’s strip. “It’s what I drive.”  
  
“It’s plastic.”  
  
“It gets me from point A to point B with minimal gas usage.” Ending the conversation, Sam stood from the car and shut the door gingerly, just like Dean had taught him years ago.  
  
Exiting the car himself, Dean leaned on the roof with crossed arms. “It has no personality, no attitude.”  
  
Sam chuckled. “That’s probably a good thing. We have enough personality and attitude in the family.” He raised an eyebrow in jest.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean shut the door with a soft push and rounded the front fender. When he passed Sam, he ruffled his hair. It was a little weird since Sam was so much taller than when Dean had last done it. “You’re probably right, Samantha.”  
  
Luckily, Sam laughed at the old jibe. Reaching into the plastic bag, he pulled out his chapstick and shoved it in his pocket. “Thanks again, by the way.”  
  
Dean half nodded, half shrugged. It was the least he could do.  
  
\---  
  
Most of the people in the house had moved to the kitchen. It looked like they were making a big family-style dinner. Dean glanced at the calendar hung by the door to ensure he hadn’t let Thanksgiving sneak up on him again.  
  
Last year, he hadn’t even gotten turkey because it wasn’t until two days after that he realized that he had missed it. It was around when Bela had taken off with the majority of the shop’s money. He and Benny had more on their minds that stuffing and football.  
  
He glowered at the calendar. They still had months before Thanksgiving was due.  
  
Their mother must have seen them come in or noticed how the other conversation came to a lull with Dean’s return to the house. “Your father’s resting. We can’t have him awake all the time if we want his leg to get better.” She grinned over her shoulder at the two of them. “Dean, do you want to help me with the pie later?”  
  
Suddenly, all eyes were on him, again. Did these people not have anything better to invest their attention in? He scowled at the floor.  
  
Mary demanded his attention a second time. “I figured we could make cherry since it’s your father’s favorite.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel and hung it on the stove.  
  
Like it was her super power, when Dean looked up, she managed to send Dean a look that transported him back to when he was four. He swallowed and nodded. “Course, Mama.”  
  
Shaking himself out of that headspace, he grabbed the repurposed Walmart grocery bag from the table and gestured for Sam to follow with a tilt of his head. They might as well get the shed fixed first.  
  
\---  
  
It didn’t take long. The new hinge was in place and the thing worked like it was supposed to again, like nothing had ever changed. Looking at the difference between the new galvanized steel of the bottom hinge and the rusty mess of the top one, Dean wondered if perhaps they should replace both, make them match.  
  
As if he could hear Dean’s thoughts, Sam responded. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” He turned a look at Dean, daring him to tell him that he’s wrong.  
  
Instead of responding in kind, Dean ended up laughing and that seemed to take Sam completely off guard. “Dude, remember when Dad decided to change the rusty gear on your old bike.”  
  
Sam pursed his lips in thought for a moment before it turned into a smile. “Yeah, I remember that it worked great before and the chain kept falling off afterward. He must’ve bought too long of a chain or something.”  
  
“We were what? Halfway to Ellen’s place and the thing just fell of completely and you couldn’t brake?”  
  
Nodding along, Sam hit Dean’s arm lightly with the back of his hand. “Ended up with a broken arm, when I hit the pavement.”  
  
Dean stood up finally and swung the shed’s door shut. It fit into the door jamb perfectly. He latched the door and turned around with a proud, broad stance. “I had to not only calm myself down but you too.”  
  
“Then somehow you got me on your handlebars and biked me home, so Mom could drive me over to the medical center. How did you get me back on a bike after that?”  
  
Honestly, Dean couldn’t really remember, so he opted for shaking his head with a smile.  
  
They walked over to the chairs by the back door. Dean sat heavily in the far one and Sam looked at the screen door for a long moment. “Hey, do you want a beer?” He pointed to the door that led through a small mudroom to the kitchen.  
  
Dean thought back to his newest promise to himself, no alcohol. “No, but, uh, I’ll take some water.”  
  
“Okay.” Sam opened the screen door and it crashed shut behind him, the piston on the screen door either broke or was to too old to do anything.  
  
Remembering when they were little and Sam would put ice in everything whether it was needed or not, Dean called after him, “No ice!” The response made him smile.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.”  
  
The sun wasn’t dipping down yet, it was still high and annoyingly warm. Sitting under it, Dean had to shrug off it overshirt; he slung it over the back of the chair. He sunk his elbows to his knees and squinted around. Being back wasn’t that bad, at least not yet.  
  
That train of thought reminded him of the conversation he’d have to strike up with his father later. The entire concept annoyed him. If his father had always known that his eldest son swung both ways, then why did he always get so disgusted at a gay kiss on television.  
  
John had always approved of Dean’s group of friends. Some of them openly swung both ways. He’d just figured that his father hadn’t known. His father always discouraged Dean from art classes and Sam from drama. He had a certain idea as to how a man should be and Dean tried to be it.  
  
It was just mind-boggling trying to reconcile what his Dad had always said and done with the new information that Rufus had let slip.  
  
Using his back to open the screen door, Sam came back out with two glasses of lemonade, one with ice and one without. “How about lemonade?”  
  
“How about yes?” Dean reached out to take the glass without ice.  
  
“Maybe this one was yours.” Sam said rocking the other glass and making the ice clink together.  
  
Dean’s only response was a well aimed bitchface and Sam laughed.  
  
They settled in next to each other. Dean kept his eyes trained on Sam’s shoes. They weren’t something that Dean would have ever expected to find Sam wearing. Sam had always been a bit of a casual shoe person, but these where fancy running shoes. “You thinking of running off somewhere?”  
  
Not following, Sam cocked his head, confused.  
  
Dean nodded to his shoes. “I mean, you’re all geared up to go.”  
  
“Oh,” Sam looked down at his feet, “No, I went to the gym before coming over here.”  
  
“No wonder you smell.”  
  
“I don’t smell.”  
  
Dean bit his lip to refrain from laughing. Conversation came easily until his mother came out and got him to help with the pie. Sam decided to come in as well, but he didn’t help with the pie. He’d always been a bit clumsy in the kitchen.  
  
Sam sat at the table and spoke to them the entire time. It reminded Dean of when Sam used to do his homework at the table and he and his mother would make dinner. Once the pie was in the oven, Dean ended up leaning against the far counter from where his mother was peeling carrots. He was sipping a glass of water and grinning so much that his face hurt.  
  
Heavy steps came from down the hallway, Bobby lumbered in. “John’s up.”  
  
The little memory that Dean was living in dulled and his heart began to hammer harder in his chest. He looked down at the water and fallowed it with his eyes when he took a sip. It didn’t cool his suddenly raspy throat and it didn’t soothe his flushed feeling.  
  
\---  
  
Dean took John’s dinner back to him. Ellen stood from the armchair and left the room, presumably to get her own dinner. She nodded to Dean on her way out and pulled the door closed.  
  
Having forgotten the near psychic level of Ellen’s intuition, it took Dean a long moment to recover from her actions. When he was breathing at a normal pace again, he rounded the end of the bed. Offering something a little bit less than a half smile; he lifted the plate of food. “Mom made all kinds of stuff. It’s like thanksgiving came early.”  
  
John’s eyes were trained on the plate. He scoffed. “Well, she better be thankful. That toolbox could have landed on my chest and I wouldn’t even be here.”  
  
Fighting the urge to leave and take his father’s food with him, Dean approached with his lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. He waited for John to maneuver himself to sit up without using his legs. He didn’t offer any help. Thinking that he’d post-pone that conversation that had been weighing on him all day, Dean handed over the plate and prepared to leave.  
  
“Of course, she’s probably also thankful that you’re back, or at least, you’re here, for now.” He cut into his turkey breast on the plate. “She doesn’t like not hearing from you.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Uhm, I, also, might not like not hearing from you,” cough “either.”  
  
Dean blinked a few times. Was his father attempting to talk to him with, like, words and feelings? Mostly form shock, Dean fell into the armchair that Ellen had recently vacated.  
  
When John looked back over, his eyebrows pulled together. “Wipe that surprised look of your face. A father might as well be entitled to worry about his first born.”  
  
Immediately, Dean snapped his mouth closed and swallowed.  
  
“One of these days, you’ll have some rascals of your own and you’ll know what I mean.” John returned his attention to his food. He scooped up some peas and mashed potatoes mixed with carrots and brought it to his mouth. He chewed it very slowly for something that was already mush.  
  
Dean swallowed and tried to think of some way to broach his topic of conversation. Nothing came to mind though and his mouth felt like when the dentist stuck the little vacuum against his gums, it was dry and suctioned shut.  
  
Swallowing, John licked his lips. He sighed and pointedly jerked his head to look away from Dean. “Or, you know, you won’t. That’s…” He took a long breath. “That’s up to you, son.”  
  
At this point, Dean was beginning to wonder if they were both trying to talk about the same thing. If so, he figured he’d follow his father’s awkward conversation and see where it went. “Uh, yeah, but I do hope to have kids some day.” His face flushed red.  
  
“Well, that’s a relief. I think your mother would be upset if she didn’t get a chance at any little Dean creatures.” John spent the next moment pushing his peas around on his plate. It was like he was waiting for something.  
  
Unfortunately, Dean hadn’t read the script. He just shrugged and waited.  
  
Rolling his head around and then up to look at Dean again, John clenched and unclenched his jaw. With renewed volume and determination, John began, “So, have you set your eyes on anyone serious in the past few years?”  
  
Dean dug the toe of his boot into the rug. “Not really. I mean, there was one person, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.”  
  
They both nodded at each other. It was like they were both waiting for the other to say something. After almost a full minute, Dean had to stop nodding his head; the motion was making his sick.  
  
“Any particular reason?” John spoke and turned back to his food.  
  
Huffing loudly, Dean decided to just go for it. “Uhm, well,” he swallowed, “he’s not ready… for…. that sort of… thing?” Dean was wincing already. Why was this so hard to do?  
  
The space was filled with tension for a pregnant pause.  
  
“Is that so?” John’s voice was tight, perturbed.  
  
Dean squeezed his eyes closed and let his head fall in shame. Maybe his father didn’t want to hear it. Maybe Dean had read all of this wrong. Maybe his father was just more awkward after 7 years. Maybe he should just go, pretend he was never there. Dean stood and turned toward the door, shoulders slumped and trying not to feel the weight of his father’s disapproval all over again. It had taken him 7 years to dig himself out of it last time and that was without any actual confrontation; who knew how long it would take this time?  
  
“Son?”  
  
The tone caught Dean off-guard and he turned around. His father was wearing a small smile and tears were welling at the corners of his eyes. Dean was struck in place. “I thought you didn’t approve.” It wasn’t like Dean had wanted to say it; it just sort of came out.  
  
John shook his head, slow and then faster. His hands were shaking and the peas on his plate were rolling onto the bed spread. “The only thing I ever disapproved of was that you never told me yourself.”  
  
7 years of alcoholism and soul-searching fell away from Dean’s shoulders and he stood up straight again. The yellow in the room seemed brighter. The yellow in the bed spread swallowing up the green color of the peas. Dean swallowed. “I’m sorry I never said anything.”  
  
“Me too, son.”  
  
\---  
  
NOW  
  
\---  
  
Benny stripped his coat from the back of the chair while he rose up. His little girl was too busy thinking about the story to grab at his pants leg to get him to stay. He picked up the car door and made his way to the exit.  
  
He flipped his cap on over his almost bald head and took his leave.  
  
John was the first to speak of the grand kids. “How come Uncle Benny knows the story?”  
  
The other grandchildren began to stir back to life. Each seemed to make their decision about the story. Ginger had a sad look on her face, probably feeling for her father in the story. Erin had an expression on their face that was one of reflection; they gave off the same royal air, but with a darker tone.  
  
“All of us know that story by now, kid. I’m sure you’ve noticed how stories get around this family.”  
  
Most of them nodded at the sentiment.  
  
Bobby clapped his hands. “But, your Uncle Benny was probably the first. When Dean came back out to get his own dinner, nobody asked him why his eyes were a little red-rimmed or why he kept sniffing his nose. Mostly, no one asked because Dean kept smiling and they didn’t want to change that, myself included…”  
  
\---  
  
THEN  
  
\---  
  
“Yeah, Benny, and then we ate dinner and everything was pretty damn awesome.” Dean grinned while he paced the office of the little car repair shop. He’d cleaned most of it to a state he could bare, but he had yet to peel off the plastic on the mattress. He was pretty sure that he’d have to buy a new mattress. He was thinking memory foam. He smiled wider.  
  
The phone was cradled between his shoulder and ear. “I’m glad to hear that, Brother.” Benny had been a patient listener; of course, he’d had a year to learn that skill with Dean already. “I’m sure that there’s more to this phone call, though, am I right?”  
  
Dean dug the toe of his boot at the cement floor and rubbed at his neck.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
“Nah, you’re right, man. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and help with this car. It has to be done by the end of this week. It’s the local loan shark.” Dean shivered at all the stories he’d heard over the years, all the nightmares that had been shared at sleepovers. “If I don’t get this done, it won’t be pretty. I could use your help.”  
  
Silence settled for a long moment. Dean crossed his fingers and then his toes and then his legs for good measure. He needed this. Bobby could help, be he was afraid that even four hands wouldn’t be good enough. The engine was completely and utterly shot. It was like Mr. Azazel was trying to get Dean’s family in his debt again; it wouldn’t surprise him.  
  
Benny cleared his throat. “If I did, where would I stay? From what you’ve told me, you’re not even sure that you’ve got a place to stay.”  
  
The tinkle of the front door opening and disturbing the old-style bell rang in the background.  
  
“If I explain the situation, I’m sure that Bobby and Ellen’ll have a place for you.” He blushed at the thought of Benny staying with him in the cramped back room.  
  
Bobby clomped over to the desk and took a seat. “Friend of yours is a friend of ours.” He smiled.  
  
Smiling at Bobby, Dean turned and paced back away from the desk and toward his room. “You hear that?”  
  
“Yeah, I did.”  
  
“So will you do it?” Dean paused and looked up at the window in the back, staring more into space than at anything in particular.  
  
Benny sighed on the other end. “Of course, brother. I’ll shut up the shop and head that way. 4 o’clock, okay?”  
  
“Okay.” Dean tapped off the call and through his phone on the plastic wrapped bed. The weight that had settled on his shoulders since the first call from his mother slipped off of him as well. Over the course of one day, he had lost most of the burden he had carried over the past 7 years. He felt like a new man.  
  
He walked back over to Bobby and leaned on the desk with a broad smile.  
  
Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. “Glad you’re back, boy.”  
  
“You know?” Dean stood up straight and rolled his shoulders back. He took in a breath and let go of the rest of the trepidation. It was another new start, hopefully the last one. He turned back to Bobby. “So, am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, we're back to Dean and Cas. [And maybe a little bit of Cas' backstory...]
> 
> me: [cockleddean.tumblr.com](cockleddean.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Half of this masterpiece I must attribute to my mind buddy [eggaddess](https://eggaddess.wordpress.com) who fleshed it out with me while we were both sleep deprived and stuck on a car trip for 5.5 hours.
> 
> I also must thank kams_log (aka [lovefromdean](lovefromdean.tumblr.com)) for asking for a beardfic and spurring this entire thing.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at [cockleddean](cockleddean.tumblr.com) the tag for this work is [LimonCelloAU](cockleddean.tumblr.com/tagged/LimonCelloAU).


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